3  1210018388361 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


DANTE 


A  DRAMATIC  POEM  BY 


HELOISE\DURANT  ROSE 

Hi 

Member  of  the  Dante  Society 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts 


MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 
NEW  YORK  MCMX 


Copyright  iqio  by 
Mitchell  Kennerley 


TO    HENRY    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

As  smallest  urchin  in  the  village  school, 
To  say  some  trying  task,  finds  he  must  rise, 
Haunted  by  hope  of  a  far  distant  prize, 
Fearing  to  fail,  and  so  remain  the  fool, 
Knowing  how  rarely  he  has  felt  the  rule, 
How  oft  the  Master's  smile,  with  looks  defies 
The  pupils'  taunts,  and  seeks  his  teacher's  eye 
To  gain  new  confidence  should  courage  cool, 
So  I,  the  least  on  learning's  noble  list 
In  life's  rough  school  face  bravely  gaze  of 

crowds, 

Nor  mark  when  carping  critics  rudely  twist 
My  sense  to  naught,  but  stand  erect  and  proud, 
If  from  thine  eyes  and  lips  encouragement 
And  smile  I  glean.    Master  1  I  rest  content. 


IN  MEMORIAM 

When  faint  my  soul  with  task  yet  incomplete, 
Who  nursed  kind  hope  save  thee,  and  urged  to 

dare 

When  I  dared  not?    In  thine  now  vacant  chair 
Thou  satst,  mild  critic,  dropping  counsel  sweet 
On  her  who  loved  and  listened  at  thy  feet. 
To-day  I  tread  rhyme's  way  alone,  nor  care 
For  praise  nor  blame,  since  thou'lt  no  longer 

share 

With  me  my  poem's  triumph  or  defeat. 
O,  let  thy  guidance  still  my  safeguard  prove! 
As  giant  oak,  wind-stricken  to  the  ground, 
To  all  the  thronging  tuneful  choir  around 
Yields  royal  shelter,  so  of  thy  generous  love 
That  blossoms  freshly  o'er  thy  hallowed  grave 
One  tiny  spray  to  nest  my  song  I  crave. 


CHARACTERS 

DANTE  ALLIGHIERI,  the  great  Italian  poet 

GUIDO  CAVALCANTI,  the  poet,  a  friend  of  Dante 

CORSO  DONATI,  a  Florentine  politician 

GEMMA  DONATI,  his  sister  (later  Dante's  wife) 

FALCO  PORTINARI,  founder  of  first  Florentine  Hospital 

BEATRICE  PORTINARI,  his  daughter 

BEATRICE  ALLIGHIERI,  Dante's  daughter 

JACOPO  ALLIGHIERI,  Dante's  Son 

PIETRO  ALLIGHIERI,  Dante's  Son 

GIOTTO  BONDONE,  the  painter,  Dante's  friend 

CAN  GRANDE  FRANCESCO  DELLA  SCALA,  Duke  of  Verona 

(Dante's  friend) 

GUIDO  NOVELLO  DI  POLENTA,  of  Ravenna 
GIOVANNA  D'ANTIOCHIA,  Can  Grande's  wife 
MARCO  NERLI,  friend  of  Dante 

GIOVANNA   (Primavera) — (becomes  Cavalcantfs  wife) 
VINCENZO  DAL  COLLE,  a  Florentine  politician 
FRANCESCA  DAL  COLLE,  his  daughter 
UBERTO  DAL  COLLE,  his  son  (friend  of  Dante) 
DINO  BRUNINI,  a  Florentine  bon-vivant 

GITA,  a  servant 

BEPPO,  a  servant  of  Dal  Colle 

JESTER 

DELEGATE,  at  Court  of  Can  Grande 

CARDINAL 

PRIEST 

MONKS 

Also  Pilgrims,  Nobles,  Travellers,  Dancing  Girls,  Pages, 
Ass  Driver,  Boys,  Peasants,  etc. 


PROEM  TO  DANTB 

Thou    mighty    poet-king,    with   brows    thrice 

crowned 

By  genius,  sorrow,  love,  who  dared  express 
(Thy  scathing  thoughts  aloud  when  bitterness 
'Possessed  thy  soul;  whom  Florence  once  dis 
owned, 

Denied  to  sing  or  live ;'  who  now  sits  throned 
In  every  heart  through  Italy,  no  less 
Revered  than  loved ;  who  spied  each  dark  recess 
And  uncouth  horror  of  abyss  profound  I 
O,  look  not  thou  reprovingly  on  me 
For  straining  feeble  wings  toward  eagle  height, 
Wresting  thy  utterance,  depicting  thee 
With  my  poor  pencil.     Infants  turn  to  light, 
And  so  my  weakness  seeks  thy   strength  to 

touch. 
Dante  1   though  frail  my  art,  my  love  is  much. 


ACT  I.        Garden  of  Falco  PortmarVs  Villa 

near  Florence. 

ACT  II.      Falco  Portinari's  house  in  Florence. 
ACT  III.     In  front  of  San  Giovanni's  Church 

in  Florence. 

ACT  IV.     Scene  I.     The  Campo  Santo  near 

Florence. 

Scene  II.     Ducal  Palace  at  Verona. 
Scene  III.     Palace  of  Guido  No- 

vello  di  Polenta  at  Ravenna. 


12  DANTE  'Act  I 

GEMMA.     [Morosely.] 

And  why  so  sure  that  she'll  bestow  the  prize  ? 
FRANCESCA. 

There's  none  so  worthy  to  be  chosen  Queen. 
GrovANNA. 

Dante!     Dante!     Durante  Allighieri! 
A  MAIDEN. 

Why  callest  thou  our  poet  ?    He's  not  near. 
GIOVANNA. 

I  called  but  as  one  conjures  spirits,  who 

Attend  the  coming  of  an  angel.     Dante 

Is  magic  word  to  conjure  Beatrice. 
FRANCESCA. 

Let  us  invoke  him,  then — our  poet  Dante. 

[GEMMA,  who  is  sitting  on  the  same  bench 
with  FRANCESCA,  makes  a  sullen  move- 
ment  widening  the  space  between  them.] 

[Enter  BEATRICE  PORTINARI,  walking, 
along  the  balustrade  at  back  of  the  stage, 
looking  out  in  the  direction  of  Florence. 
She  is  followed  by  her  page.  She  leans 
over  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace.] 

BEATRICE. 

Florence,  the  sun  caresses  thee  as  Jove 
Caressed  fair  Danae  in  a  golden  shower. 


rAct  I  DANTE  13 

Thy  beauty  glows,  till  eyes  grow  dazed  with 

light. 
Like    Queen    thou    art,    so    stately    in    thy 

strength', 

With  silver  Arno  for  thy  scepter.     Guard 
Thy  rights,  O  royal  city  1     Guard  thy  people  I 
Still  keep  us  gay  with  joyous  feasts  of  love, 
With  dance  and  song,  with  gentle  revellings, 
And  let  war's  thunder  roll  beyond  thy  hills, 
Forgotten  in  the  nearer  notes  of  peace. 
FRANCESCA.     [Calling.] 

Beatrice!    Bice! 
OTHERS.     [Calling.] 

Beatrice ! 
BEATRICE.     [Turning.] 

Pray,  spare  my  ears.     Would  I  were  deaf  to 
day! 

FRANCESCA. 
So    soon   returned   to    earth?     I    saw   thee 

caught 

In  realm  of  fancy, — flown  to  such  a  height 
Methought  one  pair  of  lungs  weak  messen 
gers 
To  call  thee  back. 

[BEATRICE  sits  on  the  stone  bench,  between 
FRANCESCA  and  GEMMA.  GEMMA  rises 
spitefully.} 


14  DANTE  'Act  1 

BEATRICE. 

Thou  seest  I'm  close  to  earth — 
Ready  to  celebrate  Calendi  Maggio. 

GEMMA. 

And,  being  thy  father's  daughter,  courtesy 
Accords  thee  pretty  favors  all  this  day; 
As  hostess,  we  must  greatly  honor  thee. 

GIOVANNA. 

There  is  no  must  in  our  allegiance,  Gemma, 
And  only  blind  folk  fail  to  see  she's  fair, 
Or  deaf  folk  fail  to  hear  how  sweet  her  voice. 

FRANCESCA. 
A  jealous  heart   oft   makes  one  deaf   and 

blind. 
[Enter  MARCO  NERLI.] 

MARCO. 

I  greet  the  graces  in  their  native  bowers. 
FRANCESCA. 

Say  seasons.  Thou,  Marco,  be  our  Winter , 
Thou,  Vanna,  Spring,  and  Beatrice  Summer; 
The  changing  Autumn  I — that  suits  me  best.* 

MARCO.     [Seating  himself  by  FRANCESCA.] 
Winter  comes  next  to  Autumn. 


*Giovanna   was   nicknamed   Primavera    (Spring).    See 
Vita  Nuova. 


Act  1  DANTE  15 

FRANCESCA. 

Turning  e'er 

Her  coldest  side  to  him. 

GIOVANNA.     [Plucking  flowers,  and  turning  to 
BEATRICE.] 

I'll  weave  a  wreath  to  crown  thee  Queen  of 
Love, 

Since  Dante  deems  thee  Queen  of  human 

hearts. 
FRANCESCA.     [Gathering  flowers.} 

And  lion-tamer  shouldst  thou,  too,  be  called, 

For  thou  hast  sway  o'er  Dante's  soul. 

Among  the  learned  is  he  not  a  lion? 
BEATRICE. 

He's  slave  worth  keeping  for  his  faithfulness. 
GIOVANNA. 

And  links  by  Bice  forged  are  lightly  worn. 
BEATRICE'S  PAGE. 

Ah,  that  our  Dante  tarry  not!     I  fain 

Would  hear  him  sing  of  love  and  ladies  fair. 
A  MAIDEN. 

Thou  art  a  froward  page  to  prate  of  love. 
A  YOUTH. 

And  tread  upon  the  heels  of  older  men. 
BEATRICE.     [To  the  youth.} 

Much  older,  in  faith — with  not  a  hair  on  chin. 
[All  laugh.} 


1 6  DANTE  Act  I 

PAGE. 

Dante  jeers  not.    He  ever  sighs,  or  sings 
Of  youthful  love — and  pages  do  have  hearts. 

BEATRICE. 

Nice  little  ones,  like  their  young  mouths,  to  fill 
With  sugar  toys.  Our  Dante  sings  for  men 
And  is  a  soldier  as  well  as  poet. 

iVANNA. 

Wasting  his  life  in  shadowy  dreams  of  bliss, 
Our  poet's  braver  fighting  men  than  women. 
[GiovANNA,  BEATRICE  and  WOMEN  con 
verse  apart.] 

FRANCESCA. 
He  learnt  this  truth :    Bodice  and  skirt  with 

youth 

Are  fatal  foes  to  fortitude  of  men 
And  yet  to  fly  a  woman  is  disgrace. 

MARCO. 

In  which  I'll  not  partake;  so  still  sit  here, 
Braving  the  smiles  I  dread  more  heartily 
Than  others'  frowns ;  for  wicked  is  thy  wit 
Piercing  through  closest  coat  of  mail,  like 
love. 

FRANCESCA. 

O,  love,  love,  Jove!    iHow  smoothly  does  it 
oil 


Act  1  DANTE  17 

The  creaking  wheels  of  this  old  lumbering 

world; 

Yet,  oft  like  Fame,  'tis  wasted  on  the  heads 
It  seeks  to  crown.    A  youth  may  burn  his 

heart 

On  altar  raised  unto  some  seeming  goddess, 
Who,  when  well  warmed,  throws  water  on 

his  flame, 

And  lightly  scatters  to  the  restless  winds 
The  ashes  of  his  faith;  or  gentle  maid 
Despoils  her  soul's  sweet  treasury,  and  finds 
Her  purity  and  peace  stamped  out  beneath 
The  iron  heel  of  some  base  libertine; 
And  men  who  could  have  left  high-honored 

names 

As  heirlooms  to  a  future  race,  have  spent 
Their  talents,  time  and  strength  on  some  wild 

son 
Who  grew  to  flout  and  hate  his  gray-haired 

sire. 

So  love  may  prove  a  dancing  will-o'-the-wisp 
To  those  who  seek  its  light  in  earth's  vast 

marsh. 

MARCO. 

Gladly  I'll  seek  and  track  the  elf,  and  win 
Fair  bride  thereby. 


1 8  DANTE  Act  I 

FRANCESCA. 

Wilt  have  a  wife?     I  know 
A  maid  cut  just  thy  pattern. 
MARCO. 

Aye,  and  a  painted  piece  of  wax — a  puppet — 
FRANCESCA. 

Who  talks  and  reasons  well. 
MARCO. 

What — both?     From  such 
Defend  me,    gentle    Heaven!     Wives    with 

their  tongues 
Are  bad;   but  wives  with  brain,  who  chatter 

too — 
FRANCESCA. 

This  maid  would  rather  read  than  be  a  gossip. 
MARCO. 

Far  worse.    A  modest  wench  would  waste  no 

thoughts 
O'er  love  scenes. 
FRANCESCA. 

Nay,  more  oft  she'd  con  her  missals 
Than  Romaunt. 
MARCO. 

Sure,  such  saintliness  would  swoon 
If  I  did  swear. 
FRANCESCA. 

Not  so, — a  maid  of  spirit. 


Act  1  DANTE  19 

MARCO. 

A  shrew,  I'll  warrant  thee.     I'll  none  of  her. 
Canst  tell  thy  fancied  fair  to  break  her  heart 
And  rave  that  I  her  life  have  basely  wrecked. 
FRANCESCA. 

Wrecked,  Marco?    Nay,  thou  knowest  not 

our  hearts. 

What  if  we  venture  all  our  happiness 
Within  the  frail  bark  Love,  and  storms  arise, 
And  toss  the  skiff  on  barren  shore — what 

then? 
Though  love  be  stranded,  'tis  not  lost.    We'd 

glean 
The  wreck-strewn  beach,  shaping  a  raft  from 

out 

The  fragments  of  our  parted  bark;  anon 
We'd  launch  forth  bravely  on  the  world's 

rough  sea 

Our  pilot  virtues,  born  of  stormy  grief, 
Guiding  us  safely  to  our  destined  goal. 
A  woman  must  be  master  of  her  love 
Or  it  will  master  her.     But,  Marco,  hark  I 
This  maid  will  hate  thee  not,  though  like 

white  wax 

Near  fire,  thine  image  melts  before  her  pride. 
MARCO. 

And  was  this  maid  drawn  by  thy  fantasy? 


20  DANTE  Act  I 

FRANCESCA. 

I  saw  her  thus  reflected  once. 
MARCO. 

Where?    How? 
FRANCESCA. 
Where — How?     Indeed,  in  thy  two  eyes,  my 

friend. 

[FRANCESCA  runs  off.] 
MARCO.     [Starting  to  follow.] 

Cesca ! 
GlOVANNA.     [Turning  to  him.'] 

Nay,  stay.    I'll  bring  Francesca  back.   [Exit.] 
MARCO.     [To  himself.] 

Meant   Cesca   then   herself?    And   yet   her 

words — 

She  is  a  madcap — witch  as  well  as  sybil ! 
BEATRICE.     [Hearing  him.] 

She's  loving  friend,  with  honest,  purest  soul, 
Whose    wit,    though    keen,    scarce    wounds. 

Her  joyous  heart 
Basking  in   God's  clear  light  e'er  sunshine 

sheds 

On  those  who  lie  forgotten  in  the  shade. 
MARCO. 
Thy  golden  nature  glints  in  praising  hers. 


rAct  I  DANTE  21 

PAGE. 
There  comes  Dal  Colle  with  black-browed 

Corso ; 

But,  alas,  no  Dante. 
MARCO, 

They'll  watch  for  him, 
And  every  sprig  *  he  gathers  must  be  paid 
Anon  with  posies  of  bad  politics. 
BEATRICE. 

Why    do    our   elders   spoil    our   pleasures? 

Youth 
Calls  out  for  joy — not  business — in  fair  May. 

[She  turns  away  toward  terrace."] 
[Enter  YOUTHS  and  MAIDENS,  with  music. 
As  the  music  stops,  there  are  exclama 
tions,  and  DANTE,  GUIDO  and  FRAN- 
CESCA  enter.] 
Hail  to  Dante ! 

Hail  to  his  twin  poet  Cavalcanti  1 
DANTEI. 

Fair  ladies   all,   I   greet  you   thousandfold. 

[Crosses  to  BEATRICE.] 
Madonna,  let  us  wander  in  the  grove 

*  Sprig  of  cytisus  laburnum. 


22  DANTE  rAct  I 

Where  the  fair  meaning  of  this  blessed  month 
Sinks   in    the   soul,    that   all    my    garnered 

thoughts 

In  one  melodious  whole  may  chant  thy  praise, 
When  we  to-day,  in  friendly  rivalry, 
Each    vaunt    in    song    our    gracious    lady's 

charms. 

BEATRICE. 
To-day  thou  must  pay  homage  to  fair  Spring. 

DANTE. 

Thou  art  my  Spring;  I'll  tune  my  lyre  to  thee. 
A  smile  from  thee  sends  swift  blood  from 

my  heart, 

To  bloom  as  tender  fancies  in  my  brain. 
Thy  Court  of  Love  holds  revel  all  the  year; 
The  chastity  of  Winter's  silent  snows, 
The  lusty  red  of  Autumn's  russet  cheek, 
Bare-bosomed  Summer's  wantonness,  alike 
With  gentle  Spring's  soft  green,   invite  all 

men 
To  rhyme  thy  worth  in  one  eternal  strain. 

GEMMA.     [Standing  near.~\ 

I'd  weary  of  these  forced  comparisons — 
As  sun,  moon,  stars,  by  turn  to  shine — con 
ceits 
By  singer's  fancy  framed. 


'Act  7  DANTE  23 

DANTE. 

Keep  thy  scorn,  Gemma, 
Till  age  steals  from  thy  looks  a  poet's  theme. 

BEATRICE. 

And  art  thou  sure  that  all  thy  metaphors 
Do  give  me  joy,  Ser  Dante? 
DANTE. 

O  Beatrice ! 
GEMMA. 

The  irate  lion  feels  his  keeper's  touch 
On  tawny  mane,  though  light  as  thistledown ! 
DANTE. 

A  thoughtless  woman's  wit  sees  idle  mirth 
In  sacred  things,  and  tries  its  wreath  of  roses 
On  sodden  skulls. 
BEATRICE. 

Now,  out  of  gloomy  moods 
[We  fain  would  laugh  thee,  Dante.     Faith, 

thy  brain 
Must  feed  on  graveyard  damps  or  midnight 

mists 
From  salty  marsh,  so  stern  the  mind  that 

moulds 

Thy  features  to  a  lengthy  face. 
FRANCESCA. 

Say  short; 


24  DANTE  'Act  I 

'Tis  like  Eve's  apple — ruddy,  red  and  round. 
[All  laugh.} 

MARCO. 

Thy  apple  savors  more  of  fabled  Paris 
Than  Eden;  more  of  discord  than  of  knowl 
edge. 

BEATRICE. 

Ne'er  heed  these  foolish  jests;  we  honor  thee 
As  poet  to  the  highest  Court  of  Love, 
As  singer  in  May's  festival. 

DANTE.     [To  BEATRICE.] 

Madonna, 

Thy  father  lured  me  to  this  verdant  shade 
With  promise  of  thy  presence,  and  I'm  here 
In  thy  bright  glance  to  bask,  as  snowdrops 

warm 
To  life  from  Winter's  chill  in  smile  of  Spring. 

FRANCESCA. 

Wilt  tune  no  lyre  for  other  maids;  I  vow 
Guido  will  strike  a  note  for  Donna  Vanna; 
Now  can  I  not  persuade  thee  to  laud  me, 
To  rhyme  of  dark  as  well  as  golden  tress, 
And  halo  my  plain  self  with  poet's  craft? 

MARCO. 

Let  prose  prove  honest  substitute  for  rhyme 
And  say  thou  art  the  fairest  maid  to  me. 


Act  1  DANTE  25 

BEATRICE. 

Come,   friends,  let's  gather  golden  blooms 
together 

To  greet  the  goodly  company  from  Florence. 

And  will  not  Dante  wend  his  steps  with  ours? 
DANTE. 

Thy  lightest  wish  is  high  command  to  me. 
FRANCESCA. 

Haste,  Messer  Dante.     Her  wit's  no  laggard 

In  crossing  swords  with  thine. 
BEATRICE. 

Mine  now  is  sheathed. 

[She  holds  out  her  hand  to  DANTE.  He 
bends  and  kisses  it,  then  walks  by  her 
side.} 

Gumo. 

Smile,  Beatrice,  smile  his  frowns  away, 
We  need  the  songs  that  Dante  sings  when 

gay: 

For  sing  ho !  sing  hey !     'Tis  joyous  May, 
And  maidens  are  sighing,  and  lovers  are  cry 
ing: 
'  I  love  for  a  year  as  well  as  a  day.' 

[Exeunt  all  but  GEMMA.] 

[Enter  GEMMA'S  brother,  CORSO  DONATI. J 


26  DANTE  Act  I 

CORSO.     [Seeing  GEMMA  alone.'] 

Why  solitary,  Gemma?     Have  the  youths 

Forgotten  what  is  due  to  a  Donati? 
GEMMA. 

Good  Corso,  nay;  but  yet  Donati  may 

Forget  what's  due  the  youths.    They  weary 

me. 
CORSO. 

What — none    can    suit    thy    fancy,    sister? 
Speak : 

Hath  not  a  poet  sung  thy  heart  away? 
GEMMA. 

If  so,  his  own  is  in  another's  keeping, 

And  all  his  thoughts  are  centered  on  the  stars. 
CORSO. 

Visions,  fair  sister — visions.     Youthful  poets 

Oft  dower  maids  with  fancied  charms,  for 
dummies 

On  which  those  verdant  rhymesters  string 
their  verse. 

The  star  this  rhymester  lifts  his  voice  unto 

May  fall  I 
GEMMA. 

Not  if  the  fates  ordain  she  shine. 
•CORSO. 

Strong  men  o'ertop  the  fates  with  sheer  per 
sistence. 


Act  1  DANTE  27 

GEMMA. 

Ambitious  words  do  not  beget  great  deeds. 
CORSO. 

Mine  father  them.    I  will  not  hide  my  mean 
ing. 

Dante  may  sing  of  Beatrice's  charms, 
Yet  weds  her  not — but  thee,  a  proud  Donati  1 
GEMMA. 

Ah,  Corso;  to  fulfill  such  prophecy — 
CORSO. 

Be  led  by  me.     I  know  a  way  to  tie 

This  poet's  roving  fancy  to  a  wife. 

He'll   dance   a   tame-bear   husband   at   thy 

hearth ! 
GEMMA. 

Hast  thou  witch-potion  or  a  wizard's  phial? 
CORSO. 

Go,  laugh  with  youths  and  maidens,  and  if 

pain 

Possess  thee,  mask  it  with  a  smile.     Disdain 
To  bare  thy  heart-aches,  till  the  time  is  ripe 
To  conquer  Dante  in  one  stirring  scene; 
And  let  thy  passion  like  a  whirlwind  then, 
Drive    him    into   thine    arms.     Be   patient, 

Gemma ! 

[He  kisses  her.     She  slowly  follows  the 
others  and  goes  out.~\ 


2&  DANTE  Act  I 

[Enter  FALCO  PORTINARI,  DAL  COLLE 
and  followers.'} 

FALCO. 

Most  welcome,  Corso,  as  our  guest  to-day ; 
What  trouble  in  the  air  o'erclouds  thy  brow  ? 
CORSO. 

To-morrow's  ills.     The  cause  obsesses  me. 
'Tis  time  to  rouse  us.    Every  man  we  need; 
But  arms  and  horses  spring  not  from  the 

ground, 

And  gold  can  buy  what  wit  may  not  com 
mand: 

So  gold  we  need  more  than  the  people's  will. 
DAL  COLLE. 
My  daughter's  hand  is  sought  this  day  by 

one 

Whose  gold  we  can  annex. 
CORSO. 

Urge  on  the  match. 
Time  counts  with  us.    We  are  beset  with 

foes 
That  crop  up  round  us  like  rain-nourished 

weeds. 
Hew  down  a  score  and  hundreds  fill  their 

place. 
Among  our  so-styled  friends  are  traitors  too ; 


Act  1  DANTE  29 

That  charlatan  of  singers — Cavalcanti, 
And  Dante — 
DAL  COLLE. 

Prithee,  spare  our  poet. 
CORSO. 

Bianchi  more  than  Guelph  is  he.     But  wait, 
I  have  a  plan  to  bind  him  to  our  interests. 
DAL  COLLE. 

We'll  treat  this  subject  further  on  the  mor 
row. 
FALCO. 

Ay;  for  to-day  we  play  the  lavish  patrons 
In  pageant  of  our  city's  Feast  of  Love, 
And  must  not  therefore  grudge  youth's  jol 
lities. 

[They  talk  apart  on  the  terrace."] 
[Re-enter  FRANCESCA  and  GlOVANNA.] 

GlOVANNA. 

I  will  not  linger  near  thee  now  to  mark 
The  treacherous  blushes  telling  of  thy  love. 
FRANCESCA. 
Hush,  hush,  I  have  no  love. 

GlOVANNA. 

No  love  in  Cesca ! 

I'll  wager  thee  a  new  sweet  song  of  Dante'a 
That  thou  wilt  soon  be  Marco's  bride.    Take 
counsel 


30  DANTE  'Act  I 

Of  merry  birds  who  mated  months  ago. 
List  to  their  singing,  Cesca.    Hear  them  say : 
'We'll  have  no  spinster  in  our  midst  this 
May.' 

[Exit.] 

FRANCESCA. 
Yet  '  Nay '  is  quickly  said,  and  *  Yea '  me- 

thinks 
More    quickly    still.      Fond    fool   to    fancy 

maids 
'Are  won  so  lightly.    What  power  hath  love 

that  I 

Should  be  so  glad  to  yield  my  virgin  pride 
Unto  a  stranger's  keeping?    Yet  I'd  box 
His  saucy  ears  if  he  but  whisper  this. 
And  still  I  love  him.     Come,  my  Marco, 

come! 

DAL  COLLE.    [Joining  FRANCESCA.] 

So,  wench,  thou  hast  been  dreaming  of  love- 
knots, 
And  turtle  doves. 

FRANCESCA. 

I,  father?    Nay,  my  dreams, 
My  thoughts,  dwell  rather  on  the  lance  than 
needle. 


Act  1  DANTE  31 

DAL  COLLE. 

Tut,  girl;  I  know  thy  whims.     Have  not 

thine  ears 

Drunk  in  too  many  passioned  words  of  late? 
FRANCESCA. 
Ay,  when  thy  broth's  too  hot,  or  cake's  too 

cold. 
DAL  COLLE.     {Taking  her  hand.] 

Shut  thy  pert  lips,  thou  f  reward  minx  I 
FRANCESCA. 

A  kiss 

Will  close  them  fast. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Thou  shouldst  be  saving  such 
For  gracious  wooer. 
FRANCESCA. 

When  he  comes,  I  will. 
CAL  COLLE. 

He  came  and  went. 
FRANCESCA. 

Without  a  chance  for  me 
To  courtesy  low  and  say : '  I  thank  thee,  nay? ' 
DAL  COLLE. 

Why  nay,  if  he  did  please  thee? 
FRANCESCA. 

He  would  not. 


32  DANTE  'Act  I 

DAL  COLLE. 

How  canst  thou  tell  unless  thou  sawst  the 
man? 

FRANCESCA. 

I'd  have  a  nay  for  full  a  score  of  men ; 
This  one  would  be  too  fat,  and  that  too  lean, 
And  this  too  short,  and  that  too  tall,  too  old, 
Too  young,  too  grave,  too  gay.     I'd  pick  a 

fault 
In  Cupid's  self,  if  he  came  wooing  me. 

DAL  COLLE. 

So  wilt  thou  dwell  as  virgin  e'en  to  eld, 

And  wither  on  a  single  stalk,  instead 

Of  knowing  fruited  boughs  of  matronhood. 

FRANCESCA. 

Show  me  perfection,  and  I'll  mate  with  it. 

DAL  COLLE. 

As  Marco  fails  to  pose  as  perfect  man, 
When  he  sought  thee  this  morn,  I  scorned  his 
suit. 

FRANCESCA. 

Marco  was  seeking  me? 

DAL  COLLE. 

Vowed  he  would  prove 
A  son  to  me ;  swore  his  undying  love 
For  thee. 

FRANCESCA. 

And  went  he  then  without  a  yea  ? 


rAct  I  DANTE  33 

DAL  COLLE. 

Didst  thou  not  say  a  nay  would  be  thy  an 
swer? 

FRANCESCA. 

Never  to  him,  the  bravest,  kindest  man. 
His  love  would  crown  with  joy  a  woman's 

life. 

O,  that  he  stood  but  here,  I'd  to  him  straight 
And  throw  mine  arms  about  his  neck  as  now 
I  twine  them  round  thine  own,  and  whisper 

low: 
*  Marco,  I  love  thee ;  take  me  to  thy  heart ! ' 

DAL  COLLE. 

Then    try   it,  child;  for    knowing    woman's 

mind 

Changes  as  quickly  as  an  April  day, 
I  bade  this  valiant  wooer  turn  his  steps 
This  way,  and  get  his  answer  from  thy  lips. 
FRANCESCA. 

The  reddening  West  make  me  a  fool  if  here 
He  finds  me. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Whither  goest,  Francesca? 
FRANCESCA. 

To  ponder  o'er  the  fitness  of  this  wooing. 
[FRANCESCA  runs  of  but  meets  MARCO 
entering.    He  stops  her.     DAL  COLLE 


34  DANTE  'Act  I 

watches     them;     then,     smiling,     goes 
out.] 
MARCO. 

Cesca,  am  I  ne'er  welcome? 
FRANCESCA. 

Truly  not, 

Unless  thou  bringst  good  news. 
MARCO. 

I  bring  myself. 
FRANCESCA. 

That  thou  art  news,  I  never  knew  before ; 
That  thou  art  good,  I  ne'er  shall  ascertain. 
MARCO. 

But  not  for  lack  of  opportunity. 
FRANCESCA.     [Courtesying.] 
Great  thanks!    The  chance  is  not  much  to 

my  taste. 
MARCO. 

But  'tis  to  mine,  and  for  the  future  we 
May  share  possessions. 
FRANCESCA. 
But  then  your  may, 

Can  wait  upon  my  shall,  till  both  are  worn 
To  one  leg  betwixt  them  with  the  standing. 
And  still  my  shall  remains  unchanged — your 

may 
Had  better  go  to  the  wall,  Ser  Marco! 


Act  I  DANTE  35 

MARCO. 

Thy  father  thinks  not  so. 
FRANCESCA. 

I'm  not  my  father, 
The  saints  be  praised!     Wouldst  have  me 

think  his  thoughts? 
Then  must  I  grow  his  beard,  thin,  gray  my 

locks, 

And  wrinkle  up  my  brows  and  harden  palms, 
Donning  a  garb  like  thine  for  women's  folds. 
Speak,  Marco,  would  I  please  thee  better 

thus? 
MARCO. 

Nay,  thou  art  best  as  maid,  with  all  thy  faults. 
FRANCESCA. 
Then  I  have  faults?    And  dost  thou  croon 

them  o'er 
With    ardent   zeal,    as  crooning   dame   her 

beads? 
MARCO. 

Come,  Cesca ;  in  a  war  of  words,  I'm  naught ; 
Lay  thy  small  hand  in  mine,  and  say  thou 

'  Marco, 

I  love  thee,'  and  the  wide,  wide  world  hence 
forth 

Could  crumble  all  "to  dust  ere  I  prove  false. 
[He  tries  to  take  her  hand.] 


36  DANTE 


FRANCESCO. 

Wouldst   wed  a   puppet — painted  piece    of 

wax — 

A  maiden  who  might  talk  a  man  to  death, 
Or  waste  her  time  o'er  love  scenes,  or  a  shrew, 
Or  silly  saint,  who'd  cross  if  thou  but  swore — 
A  good-for-naught,  who  was  to  break  her 

heart 

For  love  of  thee? 
MARCO. 

What  means  this  speech? 
FRANCESCA. 

Good   sir, 
Thy  memory's  dull;  these  words  should  call 

to  mind 
Fair  flowers,  bright  eyes,  stone  bench,  and 

Beatrice 
When  offering  thee  a  wife. 

MARCO. 

Ah,  pretty  witch, 

I  see  thy  wicked  meaning,  and  for  this  crime 
Shall  claim  sweet  recompense — a  kiss,   my 
Cesca. 

[Takes  her  hand.] 

FRANCESCA. 

Nay,  tarry  yet.    Women  are  vanes,  men  say; 


Act  1  DANTE  37 

What  wind  will  blow  me  round  to  face  thy 

love? 
MARCO. 

My  heart,  sweet  maid. 
FRANCESCA. 

But  it  may  prove  false  prophet. 
MARCO. 
And  wherefore    hath  thy  father  tricked  me 

here? 
To  jest  at  honest  love?    No  answer? 

[Going.} 
FRANCESCA. 

Stay! 
My   father  likes  thy  suit — speaks  well  of 

thee— 
But  I— 
MARCO. 

Would  fain  be  rid  of  it.    Nay,  Cesca, 
I'd  force  no  maid  to  wed  against  her  will. 
FRANCESCA. 

Nay,  nay;  not  quite  against  my  will — • 
MARCO. 

But  not 

With  all  thy  maiden  heart.    I  know  thee  true 
And  would  not  gain  thy  hand  without  thy 

love. 
Farewell  1 


3$  DANTE  'Act  I 

FRANCESCA. 

But  stay!    A  little  love— 
MARCO. 

A  little! 
Nay — all  thou  hast  to  give,  or  none!    Out 

with  it! 

Speak  thou  yea  or  nay. 
FRANCESCA. 

A  dwarf — a  pigmy  'yea.' 
MARCO. 

A  stout,  strong  *  yea ' —    A  Hercules ! 
And  say  thou  lovest  me — or  scorn  thy  *  yea.' 
FRANCESCA. 

Ah,  Marco — fie — fie!      Wouldst    force    me 

say  it? 
MARCO. 
Alas !    Then  we  must  part —    Farewell ! 

FRANCESCA. 

But  wait! 

Give  me  the  time  to  say  these  fateful  words 
That  bind  me  thine.     Marco— yea — I  love 

thee! 

[They  embrace,  and  go  out.'] 
[With  sounds  of  merriment,  enter  GEMMA, 
VANNA,    GUIDO,   a  page,   youths   and 
maidens.] 


Act  I  DANTE  39 

GIOVANNA. 

[Pointing  to  FRANCESCA,  who  is  leaving 

with  MARCO.] 
Hey,  for  the  joys  of  May;  there's  a  sweet 

pair 

Cooing  and  billing  like  two  turtle  doves. 
Guido  can  make  a  little  song  for  them. 
GUIDO. 

Dante  might  make  another.     He  lingers 
With  Beatrice  in  the  grove. 
PAGE. 

[Watching  from   the  terrace.} 

Now  Dal  Colle 
And    Corso   swoop    on   him.     He    will   be 

caught 

In  swirling  politics.     Strike  out,  good  swim 
mer, 

Clear  eddies  and  then  land  thyself  with  us. 
[Re-enter  DANTE.     He  is  immediately  sur 
rounded  by  youths  and  maidens.] 
DANTE. 

[Gazing  at  the  group.] 
On  life's  gnarled  tree,  O  Youth,  thou  art  the 

blossom, 

With  all  the  pretty  secrets  of  the  Spring; 
Rose  petals  tint  thy  cheeks;  the  scent  of  May 
Perfumes  thy  breath;  the  cadences  of  birds 


40  DANTE  Act  I 

Re-echo  in  thy  voice.    Thy  being  diffuses 
!A  fragrant  freshness.     Go  and  blend  thy 

sweets 

With  other  dainty  buds  and  blooms  around: 
Anon  I'll  rhyme  my  homage  to  my  lady. 
[Amid  the  protests  of  the  maidens  and 
swains  DANTE   turns  to  DAL  COLLE, 
CORSO   and    PORTINARI.      GuiDO   joins 
DANTE  as  the  youths  and  maidens  with 
draw.] 
DAL  COLLE. 

These  pleasant  pastimes  are  an  interlude 

To  civic  duties  for  our  city's  good. 

We  Guelphs  need  watch  and  ward  our  party's 

strength, 
Lest  Ghibellines  intrude  upon  our  rights. 

[DANTE  is  impatient.] 
CORSO.     [In  an  unpleasant  mood.] 
Lest  Bianchi  undermine  our  strength ;  Vieri 
Dei  Cerchi  is  the  man  we  most  should  dread. 
DANTE. 

Here  prejudice,  not  reason,  speaks,  Donati. 
As  seething  river,  turbulent  with  flood, 
Overflowing  banks  and  ruining  greening 

crops, 

Arose  from  tiny  rill  in  some  far  cranny 
Of  lonely  hillside — so  this  bitter  feud 


Act  I  DANTE  41 

Spread  out  in  warring  factions,  did  arise 
From  trivial  source.    Two  women's  angry 

looks 

First  lit  this  coal  of  enmity  betwixt 
*  Ye  twain.     When  Vieri  at  the  feast,  in  jest, 
Begged  that  some  friendly  soul  should  sit  be 
tween 
Thy  lady  and  her  neighbor  at  the  board — 

CORSO.     [Interrupting.] 
He  planned  an  insult,  seizing  her  arm. 

DANTE. 

Nay, 

'Twas  kindly  meant,  but  when  thy  lady  rained 
Hot  words  on  him,  his  fiery  temper  blazed; 
Out  leaped  thy  sword  to  answer  his  rash 

speech, 

And  in  that  clash  of  steel  this  feud  was  born. 
Instead  of  Guelphs  uniting  'gainst  their  foes, 
We  stand  divided  in  our  aim,  alas! 
As  Neri  and  Bianchi ! 

CORSO. 

Ay,  and  will 

While  merchants  still  uphold  such  men  as 
Vieri ; 

*  See  Appendix. 


42  DANTE  'Act  I 

Self-satisfied,  patting  their  well-filled  pouches, 
To  lord  it  o'er  the  ragged  populace, 
While  soldiers'  arms  and  valor  go  for  naught. 

DANTE. 

Our  merchants  fill  as  honorable  place 
As  soldiers.     Our  guilds  give  much  to  enrich 
Our  lives.    Through  them  the   Florentines 

join  hands 
With  many  lands,  e'en  to  the  Orient. 

CORSO. 

Are  we  the  better  for  gay  bales  of  silk, 
Attar  of  roses  and  gem-crested  cups? 

DAL  COLLE.     [To  CAVALCANTL] 

What  says  our  poet  philosopher  to  this? 

GUIDO. 

My  voice  need  not  be  heard  when  Dante's 

here, 
Far  less  when  speaks  the  Baron — Flower  of 

Chivalry ! 
The  new  St.  Chrysostom,  Second  St.  George ! 

CORSO.     [Savagely.] 

My  chivalry  at  least  absolves  me,  Ser, 
From  posing  as  a  poet,  rhyming  florins 
Out  of  the  people's  pockets. 

GuiDO.     [Drawing  sword.] 
Messer  Corsol 


Act  1  DANTE  43 

DANTE.     [Holding  GUIDO.] 

O,  Peace !     How  quarrel  on  a  day  like  this ! 
The  very  skies  in  their  unbroken  blue 
Rebuke  thy  anger.     Tis  sin  to  trespass 
On  holidays  with  witless  feuds,  my  Guido ; 
These  golden  hours  call  for  gentleness. 
Come,  let  us  join  Madonna  Beatrice. 

[With  DANTE'S  hand  on  CAVALCANTI'S 
shoulder,  the  two  poets  walk  into  the 
garden  and  exeunt. ~\ 

CORSO.     [To  DAL  COLLE,  looking  in  the  di 
rection  DANTE  took.} 
JTis  Guide's  piping  charms  the  Allighieri 
To  consort  with  that   Cerchi  tribe.     Once 

Guido 

Is  driven  from  the  field,  Dante  is  ours. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Corso,  do  nothing  rash  to-day.    The  people 
Are  in  jovial  mood. 
CORSO. 

A  quarrel  might  be  picked 
Perchance  next  month  at  San  Giovanni's  feast. 
With  streets  packed  full  of  lusty  fellows,  we 
Shall  find  our  purpose  ripe. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Ay,  bustling  crowds 
Have  their  advantages  for  spitting  men, 


44  DANTE  'Act  I 

But  here  'tis  vain,  for  Dante  favors  Guido, 
And  Beatrice  favors  Dante.     Corso, 
We  cannot  lure  this  falcon  from  his  mate. 
CORSO. 

A  shadowy  maiden  is  not  mate  for  Dante  1 
Dante,  as  well  as  Florence,  must  be  ours, 
*Tis  well  to  bind  him  subtly  to  our  cause 
By   ties    of   blood.     Gemma    is    fair.     Dal 

Colle, 
Kind  Fate  must  match  this  pair  to  suit  our 

ends. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Hush — here  Dante  nears  with  Beatrice. 
[Re-enter  DANTE  and  BEATRICE.    BEA 
TRICE  has  a  branch  of  cytisus  laburnum.] 
[Enter   with    music,    revellers   garbed   in 
white    and    yellow.     They    also    carry 
branches  of  laburnum.'] 
[Enter  GUIDO  CAVALCANTI,  GEMMA  DON- 
ATI,  GIOVANNA,  DINO  BRUNINI,  FALCO 
PORTINARI,  MARCO  NERLI  and  FRAN- 

CESCA.] 

ALL. 

Honor  to  our  host  and  hail  to  Dante ! 
FALCO. 

Kind  thanks,  fair  dames  and  maidens,  gentle 
youths ; 


'Act 


DANTE 


And  reverend  signers,  as  my  honored  guests, 
I  bid  ye  all  glad  welcome  to  the  feast. 
MARCO. 

Hail  to  the  poets! 
ALL. 

Hail  to  our  Dante !    Hail  to  Don  Falco ! 
[DANTE    and    FALCO    bow    acknowledg 
ment.     The  Votaries  dance  and  -pipe  and 
form  a  circle,  BEATRICE,  GEMMA,  Gio- 
VANNA  and  FRANCESCA  in  the  center.] 
REVELLERS  CHANT. 

See  fairest  maids  in  Florence;  one  must  wear 
The  crown  of  beauty  on  her  silken  hair; 
All  four  our  true  allegiance  share. 
Now  name  the  Queen  who  dare! 
SEVERAL. 


Beatrice  I 


Gemma ! 


Vanna ! 


ALL. 
Beatrice ! 


Francesca ! 


Beatrice  I 


Beatrice  I 


Beatrice  I 


Giovanna ! 


Beatrice ! 


46  DANTE  Act  I 

A  YOUTH. 

The  crown  is  won  by  Donna  Beatrice. 

[All  cheer.  A  ivreath  is  placed  on  Bea 
trice's  head,  and  she  is  escorted  to  a 
throne,  pRANCESCA  and  GIOVANNA  on 
one  side,  BEATRICE'S  page  and  GEMMA 
on  the  other. ,] 
FALCO. 

Now  let  the  Cavalliera  add  renown 
To  this  day's  sports.     Let  each  recount  his 

deeds 
Of  valor  done  for  his  fair  lady's  sake. 

[Dante  steps  forward.] 
DANTE. 

Three  moons  agone,  the  Donna  Bice,  in  sport 
Flung  down  her  glove,  and  bade  me  bring  ft 

back 

Filled  with  the  pearls  the  robber  Ugo  stole. 
Here,  for  my  lady,  are  both  glove  and  pearls, 
Redeemed  from  robbers'  roost,  where  dead 
he  lies. 

[DANTE  drops  the  glove  and  pearls  in 
BEATRICE'S  lap.  She  kisses  them  with 
delight.  All  cheer.] 

CORSO. 
And  I,  at  gentle  Vanna's  light  behest, 


Act  I  DANTE  47 

Stole  through  our  foeman's  camp,  risking  my 

life 

In  her  sweet  service.     And  hence  I  claim  re 
ward. 
Give  me  thy  colors  as  thy  loyal  knight. 

[Kneels  to  GIOVANNA.] 
GIOVANNA. 

'Twas  but  a  jest.     I  need  thy  service  not. 
CORSO.     [Rising  furiously.] 

Dost  mock  me,  jade? 
GuiDO.     [Drawing  his  sword.] 

At  men,  Ser  Corso,  aim  thy  insolence, 
So  that  they  properly  may  answer  it. 
CORSO.     [Draws    his    sword    and    lunges    at 

GUIDO.] 
Ah,  blows  the  wind,  Ser  Poet,  in  that  quarter? 

[FALCO  rises  and  intervenes.] 
DANTE. 

Nay,  nay!     Defer  your  petty  feuds.    To-day 
We    worship    peace.     Our   valiant   soldiers 

need 
Their  swords  for  foes.    And  if  they  must  be 

drawn 

On  this  fair  day,  their  use  is  gentleness. 
Cut  off  gay  branches  to  adorn  your  homes 
With  the  sweet  semblance  of  a  golden  rain; 
And  let  the  fire  in  your  swords  flare  out 


481  DANTE  Act  1 

In  passioned  words  of  love  to  celebrate, 

As  honest  Florentines,  Calendi  Maggio. 
FALCO. 

Come,  let  us  have  our  poets  sing  their  lays. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Methinks  their  trade  of  tinkering  idle  rhyme 

Begotten  of  spring  fancies,  fits  not  men 

We  need  for  civic  duties  of  the  hour. 
DANTE.     [Springing  up.] 

The   fancies  born  of  spring  breed  noblest 
deeds, 

No  power  so  strong  to  mould  men's  wills  as 
love. 

The  people  need  the  lesson  of  the  spring. 

God's  glance  may  glint  in  burnished  helm 
and  shield, 

'But  in  God's  mother's  month  His  smile  lies 
hid 

In  each  enfolded  flower  and  budding  bough. 

His  voice  is  heard  in  each  vibrating  note 

Of  birds  a-quiver  with  May's  melody; 

And  every  hour's  duty  should  be  love — 

Love  of  fair  women,  love  of  home  and  God. 

[Cries  of  'Dante.  1$  right!    Hail  to  our 
poet,  Dante.'] 


'Act  7  DANTE  49 

CORSO. 
Still   I   approve   Dal   Colic's   words.     This 

tinkering 
Of  rhymes — 
GuiDO.     [Interrupting.'] 

Now  out  upon  thee  for  a  fool. 
Here  is  my  sword  defending  Poesie — 
DANTE.     [Restraining  him.'] 
She  needs  no  champion,  Guido,  for  the  world 
Needs  her  to  champion  it.     She  sings  to  men 
In  joy  and  sorrow,  teaching  how  to  woo 
'And  how  to  voice  the  bravest  battle  hymn. 
Her   lightest   whisper's  heard   in   hell    and 

heaven. 
FALCO. 

Then  let  us  hear  her  gracious  voice  to-day. 
The  sun  declines — the  contest  must  begin. 
[The  pipers  pipe  a  strain.     Order  is  re 
stored  and  a  young  poet  rises."] 
POET. 

Here  at  her  feet  I  sigh, 
Here  would  I  gladly  lie 
To  dream  of  her  and  die. 
Her  beauty  is  divine; 
An  angel  in  a  shrine, 
Too  lovely  to  be  mine. 
[They  applaud  him.] 


50  DANTE  Act  I 

DINO  BRUNINI. 

I  crave  your  gracious  patience  for  a  song. 
A  MAIDEN. 

Is't  a  crow's  song? 
ANOTHER  MAIDEN. 

Will  the  porpoise  dance,  too? 
[All  laugh.'] 
DlNO.     [/«  a  squeaky  voice."} 

The  lily  white,  the  lily  white, 

Is  every  maiden's  fair  delight; 

But  when  roast  pigeons  greet  the  sight, 

I'd  rather  have  the  wine  that's  white. 
CHORUS. 

He'd  rather  have  the  wine  that's  white. 
DINO. 

The  roses  red,  the  roses  red, 

Bloom  for  the  living  from  the  dead; 

But  when  the  table's  richly  spread, 

I'd  rather  have  the  wine  that's  red. 
CHORUS.     [Laughing.'] 

He'd  rather  have  the  wine  that's  red. 
GUIDO. 

Shame,  man,  to  sing  of  food  and  wine,  when 
Beauty 

Sits  here  and  smiles  before  thy  dullard  gaze, 
SEVERAL;. 

Sing!    Guido,  sing! 


Act  1  DANTE  $r 

GUIDO.     [Approaching  GiOVANNA.] 

Spring  comes!     Beneath  her  white  feet  rise 

The  flowers  debonair. 

Her  sweet  breath  scents  the  air. 

Within  her  eyes  no  guile 

Is  hid.     Upon  the  breeze 

Her  long  hair  floats.     Her  smile 

Invokes  the  birds,  till  these 

Fill  all  the  wood  with  song. 

Her  voice  sets  hearts  afire, 

For  Spring  is  herald  to  sweet  Love's  desire. 

My  lady  comes!     Her  lightest  step  awakes 

An  echo  in  my  breast, 

Arousing  deep  unrest, 

Until  I  touch  her  hand, 

Until  her  lips  greet  mine. 

Her  servant  to  command, 

Here  at  her  feet,  divine, 

I  kneel  and  bow.    Her  spring 

Blooms  tho'  the  leaves  are  sere, 

Her  radiancy  illumines  all  the  year. 

[There  are  cries  of  'Hail!     Guido!    Hail 

to  Cavalcantif] 
FALCO. 

Bravely  has  Guido  rhymed  his  lady's  charms ; 

The  fair  Giovanna — Primavera ! 

Now,  Dante  Allighieri,  strike  thy  lyre ! 


$2  DANTE  Act  I 

CORSO.     [Aside  to  DAL  COLLE.] 
Hearst  that,  Dal  Colle,  how  they  laud  him? 

DAL  COLLE. 

Wait,  Corso,  wait  till  San  Giovanni's  Day. 
[The    sun    is    setting    behind    the    trees. 
DANTE  rises  and  approaches  BEATRICE.] 

DANTE. 

When  suddenly,  amid  the  thoughtless  crowd, 

There  falls  a  hush  upon  the  place, 

And  glory  shines  on  every  face, 

Reflected  as  from  Angels'  wings 

Passing  the  earth  at  birth  or  death; 

Or,  from  the  censers,  as  they  swing, 

Full  of  rich  incense,  and  men's  breath 

Comes  faster,  as  they  look  and  kneel — 

'Tis  when  a  miracle  they  spy, 

And  my  most  beauteous  lady  passes  by. 

It  were  as  if  a  fragrant  rose  from  Heaven 
Had  fallen  to  earth.     Her  glorious  mien 
Astounds  all  men;  her  gaze  serene 
Abashes  sin.     Sheen  of  the  sea 
Is  in  her  eyes;  the  sun's  red  gold 
Glints  in  her  hair;  and  purity 
Like  shining  robe  doth  her  enfold. 
Ah,  sensuous  beauty  may  delight, 
But  Beatrice's  blest  in  God's  own  sight ! 


'Act  I  DANTE  53 

ALL. 

To  Dante  the  prize!     Allighieri  wins! 
Hail,  Dante!     Hail,  Durante  Allighieri! 

[The  sun  has  set  and  the  afterglow  illu 
mines  the  scene.] 

[BEATRICE  takes  of  her  wreath  and  places 
it  on  DANTE'S  head.] 

FALCO. 

And  now,  good  friends,  we'll  haste  unto  the 

feast. 

I  bid  ye  all  thrice  welcome  as  my  guests. 
Each  drink  and  dance  beneath  night's  silver 

lamps 
And  let  each  lover  toast  his  lady  first. 

[Music.  All  depart  except  BEATRICE  and 
DANTE.  GEMMA  lingers,  dropping  her 
scarf;  then  also  leaves.  BEATRICE  rises 
and  starts  to  go.] 

DANTE.     [Turning  to  Beatrice.] 

0  lady,  stay, 

And  blend  thy  beauty  with  the  flowers'  breath. 
BEATRICE. 

1  dare  not  tarry  now. 
DANTE. 

May's  song  and  perfume, 


54  DANTE  'Act  I 

Its  leaf  and  bloom,  with  new  life  tremulous, 
All  breathe  a  blended  note  of  tender  love, 
Inviting  confidence.     I  pray  thee,  wait 
To  hear  the  message  my  soul  hath  for  thine. 
[She    sits    again    slowly    near    DANTE. 

Pause.] 
BEATRICE. 

I  listen,  but  our  poet's  tones  are  mute. 
DANTE. 

*When  in  thy  presence,  honored  one,  I  stand, 

*  My  spirits  faint  till  naught  but  sight  is  left, 

*  While  e'en  my  daring  orbs  grow  dazed  and 

dim 

*  Beneath  thy  beauty.     Speech  deserteth  me; 

*  My   troubled   heart,    wild   beating,    stifles 

breath. 
My  mind,  too  moved  to  think,   for  tyrant 

love, 

Whose  liegeman  true  am  I,  claims  every  sense. 
Q,  thou  who  art  my  sight,  and  pulse  and 

thought, 
Be  courteous  with  thy  power,   most  gentle 

Bice, 

And  sport  not  with  the  sorrows  of  my  soul, 
Unless  it  pleases  thee  to  see  me  wan 
With  wretchedness. 

*Vita  Nuova. 


Act  I  DANTE  55 

BEATRICE. 

Not  so;  with  joyousness 
I  would  thy  life  were  filled. 

DANTE. 

Each  day  men  ask 

*For  whom   hath  love   so  wasted  thee,   O 

Dante?' 

And  I  could  say  *  For  one  who  mockingly 
Commands  me  to  be  gay,  while  her  cold  heart 
Slays  me  outright  with  her  own  loveliness.' 

BEATRICE. 

Forgive  youth's  wantonness. 

DANTE. 

Forgive  me,  Sweet, 

That  to  such  soul  as  thine  I  could  impute 
A  fault;  no  flaw  could  keenest  eye  spy  out 
In  thy  pure  heart;  when  women  see  thee  pass 
*  They  cry,  '  What  miracle  on  earth  is  here? ' 
*And  men  find  evil  thoughts  killed  by  thy 
gaze. 

BEATRICE. 

If  I  believed  thy  words,  to  purge  my  pride 
'  Twould  Paternosters  and  more  Aves  need 
Than  one  poor  tongue  could  tell  throughout 
the  year. 

*Vita  Nuova. 


5  6  DANTE  Act  I 

DANTE. 

To  know  one's  worth  can  scarce  be  counted 
crime. 

BEATRICE. 

Yet  to  delight  in  self,  is  deadliest  sin, 
And  pride  thus  fostered,  proves  inimical 
To  true  Philanthropy;  O,  shun  it,  Dante! 

DANTE. 

As   trusting   babe  clings   close   to   mother's 

breast, 

With  instinct  truly  seeking  safest  haven, 
So  turns  my  heart  to  thy  rare  influence, 
Knowing  thy  virtue  guards  mine  own.     So 

speak, 

Most  gentle  lady.     Would  that  I  might  listen 
To  such  sweet  harmony  till  deafening  death 
Dulls  ears  of  clay — then  find  in  Paradise 
Angels  still  syllabling  thy  tender  tones. 

BEATRICE. 

Trust  not  to  human  sympathy  for  strength 
To  fight  'gainst  sin.     Trust  only  aid  divine; 
Nor  lean  on  some  poor  mortal  prop  like  me, 
Who  from  thy  sight  may  any  day  be  taken. 

DANTE. 

Madonna,  if  thou  fail  me — life  is  death. 
Should    I    be    lingering,    hearing    one    say 
'  come' — 


DANTE  '57 


Hug  mouldy  garb  of  earth  'stead  donning 

robe 

Bright  with  celestial  woven  tints? 
DANTE. 

If  He 

Who  lent  such  graciousness  to  us  were  pleased 
To  call  thee  to  Himself  again,  dare  we 
Still  stay  thy  steps,  tho'  in  the  jealous  grave 
Slept  all  our  joys  with  thy  fair  mortal  frame? 
But  should  thy  presence  fail  me  while  in  life 
Thou  dost  yet  bless  all  human  hearts  and 

eyes, 
Then  farewell,  peace  I    Unrest  lords  o'er  my 

soul  I 

BEATRICE. 
Withhold  thy  passionate  love  from  me,  and 

seek 

To  house  it  in  a  heart  that  turns  to  thee. 
DANTE. 

Where  could  I  nest  my  love,  since  in  thy 

breast 
It  shelter  sought  years  past?    Could  aught 

dislodge 

Such  holy  guest  from  such  a  holy  rest? 
Nay,  give  thy  heart's  sweet  dower  to  whom 

thou  wilt; 
So  thou  art  joyous,  need  I  weep  my  loss? 


58  DANTE  Act  I 

But  let  me  keep  my  loyal  love  still  pure 
And  live  but  in  the  pleasure  of  that  love. 
BEATRICE. 

Alas,  poor  Dante! 
DANTE. 

Rich,  indeed,  in  love, 
Though  beggared  in  all  else.    Let  no  salt 

drops 

Deface  thy  roses.     See,  no  more  I  sigh, 
But  smile,  for  in  my  soul  thou  still  art  mine, 
And  wilt  be  so  for  aye  and  aye  and  aye. 
BEATRICE. 

Dante!     By  all  thy  poet's  fire,  I  plead 

For  thine  own  sake,  to  rouse  thee  from  this 

dream. 
DANTE. 

Yea,  dream,  if  life  be  sleep ;  but  thro'  closed 

lids 
Love  speeds  at  will.     Turn  not  those  emerald 

eyes 

So  sadly  from  me ;  I  am  merry,  Bice. 
BEATRICE. 

0  Dante!     Such  strange  joy  springs   from 

sad  heart. 

1  cannot  leave  thee  sad.    Thou  art  a  part 
Of  all  that's  beautiful  in  life  to  me. 

On  every  lip  I  hear  thy  praises  sung; 


Act  I  DANTE  59 

Since  child  I  ever  honored  thee  as  one 

Whose  forehead  touched  the  stars,  while  at 
thy  feet 

We  sat  and  listened  to  the  songs  thou  stol'st 

From    stranger    spheres.     But    when    thou 
speak'st  of  love 

Thy  passion  flames — a  great  consuming  fire, 

Too  splendid  for  a  glow-worm  such  as  I. 
DANTE. 

O,  let  thy  tender  heart  still  plead  for  me. 
BEATRICE. 

What  wilt  thou  that  I  say? 
DANTE. 

One  word  of  hope, 

And  love,  to  star  the  night  of  my  despair. 
BEATRICE. 

I  falter  on  the  threshold  of  my  speech; 

But  couldst  thou  wait — 
DANTE. 

Till  when,  my  Beatrice? 
BEATRICE. 

Give  me  a  month  or  more,  in  which  I'll  strive 

To  reach  the  pedestal  whereon  thy  love 

With  poet's  fancy  raises  me. 
DANTE. 

A  month 


60  DANTE  'Act  I 

Or  more !     And  must   I   wait  five   endless 

weeks!     [Pause.] 

Parting  and  silence  may  be  deemed  best, 
But  vain  behest,  Madonna  Beatrice, 
Though  dumb  my  tongue,  with  worlds  divid 
ing  us, 

All  varied  space  that  might  between  us  lie, 
Brings  thee  the  nearer  me — my  soul  to  thee; 
Thy  voice  is  in  the  breeze,  thine  image  haunts 
The  green  of  forest  nooks,  rose-tinted  sky, 
Peaks  purple,  sapphire  levels  of  sunlit  sea, 
In  dewy  freshness  of  dawn's  radiancy, 
In  sunset's  flaming  pennant,  flung  across 
The  west  with  twilight's  rare  necromancy, 
For  thou  art  all  in  earth  and  heaven  to  me. 

[He  kneels.] 
BEATRICE. 

An  Empress  'neath  her  purple  would  feel 

proud 
To   hear   thy   words.     At    San    Giovanni's 

feast, 

I'll  pray  the  gracious  saint  to  bless  our  love. 

Then,  after  mass  that  day,  come  to  our  house, 

So  we  can  crave  my  noble  father's  blessing. 

[BEATRICE    holds    out    both    hands    to 

DANTE,  who  still  kneeling,  takes  them 

reverently  in  his  own.] 


Act  I  DANTE  61 

[Enter  in  background,  GEMMA  and  CORSO. 
She  picks  up  her  scarf.  Then,  In  dumb 
show,  points  toward  DANTE  and  BEA 
TRICE.  CORSO,  also  in  dumb  showt  paci 
fies  her  and  tells  her  to  wait.] 

DANTE.     [To  BEATRICE.] 

O    blessed    San    Giovanni's    Day!    thrice 

blessed  I 

O  love,  my  love!    My  blessed  Beatrice! 
Thou  art  my  prize  on  San  Giovanni's  Day! 
[DANTE  kneels  to  BEATRICE.] 

CURTAIN 


ACT  II 

A  room  in  Falco  Portinari's  house  in  Flor 
ence.  Enter  from  street:  Fincenzo  Dal  Colle, 
Dino  Brunini,  Gemma  Donatl  and  Attendant. 

DAL  COLLE. 

San  Giovanni's  'day!    Now  may  its  purposes 
Work  for  our  ends,  with  Corso's  brains  as 

guide. 
DINO. 
And  Dino's  legs,  and  eyes  and  tongue,  to 

serve 
Those  brains.    Yea,  yea,  'tis  San  Giovanni's 

Day, 

And  may  it  bring  good  luck  and  gold  to  me 
For  trotting  off  my  flesh  to  find  when  Dante 
Or  Guido  shift  their  steps — 
DAL  COLLE. 

All  for  the  cause. 
DINO. 
The  cause!    The   cause  is  dear  to  me  as 

Greek. 
Thou  art  my  cause  while  loose  thy  purse 

strings  dangle 
With  promise  of  an  adequate  reward. 

63 


Act  II  DANTE  63 

DAL  COLLE. 

Have  patience,  for  thou  knowest  my  word  is 

good. 

Falco  has  sent  his  household  to  the  mass; 
A  dull  hind  guards  the  door,   and  of  the 

wenches, 
Gita  alone  is  left. 

DlNO. 

Pretty  Gita! 

Thy  name  suggests  a  pleasing  picture.  Smooth 
Thy  kerchief ;  shake  thy  ebon  locks ;  flash  eyes, 
For  Dino's  here  to  shower  smiles  upon  thee ! 

[DAL  COLLE  and  GEMMA  come  forward, 
leaving  ATTENDANT  in  the  background.} 

DAL  COLLE. 

Art  sure  thou  knowest  well  what  part  to 
play? 

GEMMA. 

My  brother  has  instructed  me.     'Tis  hard 
That  maid  should  need  to  scheme  for  love's 
reward. 

DAL  COLLE. 

Thy  task  is  easy,  and  the  goal  is  great; 
Thou'lt  gain  a  husband,  we  a  strong  ally. 
First  plead  fatigue  and  linger  here,  awaiting 


64  DANTE  Act  II 

Beatrice.    We  know  that  Dante  comes 
To  visit  here  at  noon.    Tell  him  thy  tale, 
As  if  impelled  by  his  love  poesy 
To  speak  of  love.    But  veil  the  object  of 
Thy  fond  desire.    Thy  brother's  men  will 

stir 

A  broil  to  hinder  Bice  coming  home. 
Dante,  impatient,  will  hie  him  to  the  church. 
Thou'lt  follow  him  and  show  to  all  the  crowd 
Thy  fond  solicitude. 

DlNO. 

Gemma,  beware 

Of  blows  not  meant  for  thee,  but  ill  directed. 
GEMMA. 

Fear  flies  before  such  ardent  love  as  mine. 
I  threw  aside  my  maidenly  reserve 
When  Corso  bade  me  act  to  aid  the  cause. 

DAL  COLLE. 

Then  loudly  feign  a  wild,  tempestuous  grief 
When    Corso   plays    his   part    as   outraged 

brother, 
And,  cursing,  drives  thee  from  his  shelt'ring 

roof. 

Then  Dante's  chivalry  must  ope  his  door 
To  rescue  thy  fair  name,  imperilled  for  him. 

GEMMA. 
Hush,  methinks  I  hear  our  host  approaching. 


rAct  II  DANTE  65 

DINO. 

A  swish  of  skirts  proclaims  'tis  pretty  Gita. 

[Enter  old  GITA.] 
DAL  COLLE. 

Here  is  a  beauty  to  thy  liking,  Dino ! 
DINO.     [Annoyed,  to  GITA.] 

Where's   thy  master,    witch?     Speak,    lazy 
bones  ! 
GITA. 

How  should  I  know?    I  have  my  work  to  do, 

To  spin  the  flax  and  chide  the  kitchen  wenches 

When  they  in  gossip  fail  to  turn  the  spit. 
DINO. 

Old  Knownaught,  stir  thy  stumps. 
GITA.     [Audibly  to  herself.] 

Witch,  Lazybones,  Knownaught.    He's  mad 

and  fool. 
DINO. 

Thou  dried-up  mummy  of  thy  youthful  self, 

Tell   Falco   I   am  here.     Haste,   scourpot, 

haste  I 
GITA. 

Tell  him?    Not  I,  fast  flinger  of  foul  filth! 

May  all  the  ills  of  life  befall  thee  straight  I 

May  murrain  prey  upon  thy  flocks  and  herds ; 

Crops  fail,  temptations  of  Saint  Antony 

Assail  thy  soul,  and  thou  succumb  to  each  I 

May  death — 


66  DANTE  'Act  II 

[Enter  FALCO.] 

FALCO. 

Cease  bawling,  Gita ;  get  thee  hence. 

[Exit  GITA.] 

FALCO. 

Welcome,  good  friends,  on  San  Giovanni's 

Day. 
DINO. 
Good  morrow,  neighbor.    We  come  to  find 

thee 

Guarded  like  Hell,  with  worse  than  Cerberus ; 
A  surly  soul,  thy  Gita. 
FALCO. 

But  honest,  Dino ; 

And  sourest  temper  often  makes  sweet  cooks, 
Who  bake  meats  well,  and  wrinkled  hands 

can  spice 

And  roll  smooth  paste. 
DINO. 

All  indigestion's  ills 
Would  wait  upon  my  meals  such  hags  did 

serve. 
FALCO. 

Tarry  till  noon,  Ser  Dino.    Then  thou'lt  have 
My  daughter's  pretty  maids  to  wait  on  thee. 


DANTE  67 


DAL  COLLE. 

'Tis  rumored  through  the  town  she  weds  di 
Bardi. 

FALCO. 

Simon  di  Bardi  is  my  choice  for  her, 
A  worthy  mate  for  daughter  of  our  house. 

DAL  COLLE. 

And  is  fair  Beatrice  strong  again? 

FALCO. 

The  leech  restored  her  from  the  fever's  grasp, 
But  she  is  weak.    What  news  hast  thou,  Dal 
Colle? 

DAL  COLLE. 

I  came  for  some,  Ser  Falco.  A  certain  Beppo, 
An  unhung  rascal,  who  hath  called  himself 
My  servant  erst,  is  missing  since  a  brawl 
Two  other  knaves  out  of  my  service  knocked. 
I'm  told  he's  hurt  and  cared  for  in  thy  house. 

FALCO. 

True,  true.    He  is  a  lusty  fellow.     Soon 
I'll  send  him  back  to  thee. 

DAL  COLLE. 

My  thanks  are  thine. 

How  many  more  poor  knaves  hast  thou  be 
friended? 

FALCO. 
I  keep  not  count  of  guests  God  sends  to  me. 


68  DANTE  Act  II 

DINO. 

But  of  the  lame  and  halt  there'll  be  no  limit. 

FALCO. 

'Tis  true.     My  house  is  taxed  to  shelter  all 
The  luckless  wights  misfortune  overtakes. 
One  lodges  in  the  cellar,  one  in  garret, 
And  one  on  bed  of  straw  in  kitchen  lies. 

DAL  COLLE. 
This  open-handed  largess  leads  thee  far. 

FALCO, 

Beyond  these  walls  I'll  build  a  house 
For  homeless  sick,  where  all  can  go, 
And  service  claim  of  leech  and  pothecary. 

DINO. 

On  such  a  folly  wouldst  be  wasting  gold? 

FALCO. 

Not  wasting,  Dino;  all  we  spend  on  others 
Is  stored  in  Heaven  for  us  with  ten-fold  in 
terest. 
And  Dante  will  be  aiding  me  in  this. 

[Enter  MARCO  and  FRANCESCA.] 

MARCO. 

Greetings,  good  Portinari! 
FRANCESCA. 

May  blessings 

Of  San  Giovanni's  feast  day  rest  on  thee. 


'Act  II  DANTE  69 

FALCO. 

A  welcome  ever  waits  ye  here,  my  friends. 

A  special  welcome  for  the  bride  and  groom. 

[GEMMA  greets  FRANCESCA.] 
DINO.     {Addressing  his  niece  FRANCESCA  and 

her  HUSBAND.] 

Good  morrow,  Cesca  Eve  and  Marco  Adam. 

Still  vaunting  of  your  new-found  Paradise? 

Let  ye  once  taste  of  the  forbidden  fruit 

Satiety,  and  each  will  quick  spy  out 

The  other's  nakedness  of  soul.     Sew  leaves 

Of  manners  and  of  forms  to  hide  Love's  bar 
renness, 

'Twill  still  peep  out  through  most  elaborate 
stitching. 

As  yet  the  lover  lingers  in  the  looks 

Of  new-made  husband,  and  the  honeymoon 

Clings  to  thy  steps. 
FRANCESCA. 

More  pity  if  it's  reached 

His  heels  already.     On  his  lips  this  morn 

Methought  that  I  could  taste  it  still  a  scrap. 
MARCO. 

In  our  hearts,  wife,  when  waneth  one  fair 
moon, 

Shall  rise  another  sweeter  than  the  first, 

Providing  honey  lavishly  to  feed 


70  DANTE  Act  11 

Throughout  our  years  of  eld  that  wild  bee, 
Love. 

DlNO. 

String  out  your  comfits  on  a  silver  thread. 
Sugar  and  moonshine!     Food  for  fool  or 

fay. 

But  wait  till  rage  domestic  storms,  and  where 
Are  sweets  and  beams?     Melted,  dispersed 

and  gone ! 

Love  is  at  best  but  restless,  flitting  guest; 
Clip  close  his  wings  to  hold  him  all  thine  own. 
Love's  no  more  love  from  god  to  changeling 

turned; 
But  let  him  near  thee  poised  on  outstretched 

wing 

And  wildly  beats  thy  heart  to  win  him  thine. 
Let  humdrum  souls  prate  on  in  drowsy  tones 
Of  joys  of  household  loves;  to  me  the  kiss 
Stolen  at  midnight  from  reluctant  lips 
Of  some  coy  maid  is  worth  full  thousand  fold 
The  known  embraces  of  a  wedded  wife. 
FRANCESCA. 

Thou  raven-uncle!    Auguries  ill-omed 
Fall  faint  on  ears  stopped  with  love's  sweetest 

song. 

But  let  me  turn  Cassandra  and  foretell 
Thy  nearing  punishment  for  flouting  love; 


Act  II  DANTE  7 1 

Before  thy  time  thou  shalt  grow  old.     Sharp 

words 
Bring    wrinkles;    crooked    thoughts    work 

crooked  lines 
On  smoothest  skin,  and  pinched  soul  makes 

pinched  face. 

See,  uncle,  youth  slips  by  thee  unawares; 
Sure  as  I  live,  there  are  three  hairs  turned 

gray. 

DlNO. 

Gallimatia!     Niece,  thy  wits  wool-gathering 
See  all  things  white.     Call  Dante  here,  and 

tell  him 

He's  lily-fair;  'twill  suit  his  jocund  mood. 
FRANCESCA. 

O,  uncle !  thou  art  not  a  man  but  mass 
Of  vanity  and  selfishness,  skinned  o'er 
With  maxims  for  preserving  beauty's  tints'. 

[She  turns  to  talk  with  FALCO.] 
DINO.     [Aside.] 

To  heed  an  angry  woman's  words  is  like 
Stopping  to  count  the  stinging  grains  of  dust 
The  east  wind  bears.     Crowfeet  1  said  she; 

gray  hairs? 
The  wench  is  mad!.    They're  ten  years  off 

at  least ! 
The  devil's  in  the  witch  to  drawl  of  age. 


72  DANTE  Act  II 

[Enter  GIOVANNA  and  LADIES.] 

SEVERAL. 

Greetings,  dear  Ser  Falco!    Where  is  Bice? 

FALCO. 
She  wended  way  to  mass  before  the  fete. 

GIOVANNA. 

She  must  not  linger  in  the  crowded  church. 
We'll  bring  her  back  to  celebrate  the  day 
At  home.     Good  San  Giovanni  will  forgive 
That  we  burn  fewer  tapers  in  his  honor, 
While  we  can  deck  his  image  here  with  blos 
soms. 

DlNO. 

O,  would  fair  maids,  this  were  my  saint's  day, 

too, 
So  dainty  hands  could  crown  my  head  with 

roses. 
FRANCESCA. 

A  devil's  day  would  suit  thee  better,  uncle. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Hast  heard  what  this  gray-bearded  spend 
thrift  plans? 
A   house   for   homeless   sick   and   wounded 

churls  ? 

'Twill  surely  foster  brawls  to  hear  of  it. 
GIOVANNA. 

O,  may  I  send  my  churlish  kitten  there? 


'Act  II  DANTE  73 

She's  lost  a  whisker  in  a  fight  and  limps, 
With  one  sore  paw  held  piteously  aloft. 

FRANCESCA. 

And  our  house-dog,  a  veteran  in  frays, 
Needs  two  new  ears,  and  half  a  foot  of  tail ! 

GEMMA. 
And  my  poor  moulting  thrush   is   needing 

feathers. 
[The  ladies  laugh.] 

MARCO.    [Turning  to  FRANCESCA.] 
Ne'er  jest  at  noble  impulses,  Madonna. 

FRANCESCA. 
We  stand  rebuked,  and  kneel  for  pardon. 

FALCO. 

Rise, 

Fair  sinner.     Thy  sweet  penance  overleaps 
Thy  fault. 

MARCO. 

'Tis  bravely  planned  to  heal  the  sick. 
Within  the  walls  by  generous  Falco  built 
Ills  blessings  turn,  and  duties  glide  to  acts 
Of  joy,  while  faith  can  whisper  of  bright 

shore 

Beyond  the  bitter  water  of  death's  tide. 
A  house  of  shelter  for  the  stricken  poor 
And  house  of  healing  where  the  weary  rest 


74  DANTE  'Act  II 

Is   God's  own  inn  for  God's   own  chosen 
guests. 

DlNO. 

And  as  Dante  sings  '  let  each  trivial  act 
Be  our  wax  candle.* 
MARCO. 
Nay,  that's  wrong;  'tis  thus: 

*  O,  let  each  trivial  act  shine  on  each  life 
Aglow  with  good — an  altar  light  for  soul.' 
If  thou  twist  Dante's  words,  thou'lt  feel  his 

hand; 

*  Passing  a  smithy  but  a  se'nnight  since, 
Dante  heard  amid  the  roar  and  blowing 
Some  snatches  of  his  songs  sung^  quite  amiss, 
And  straight  in  street  he  flung  the  smithy's 

tools ; 

So  did  he  beat  a  dullard  driving  asses, 
iWho  chanted  idle  rhymes,  and  dubbed  them 

his. 

*  Wouldst  bastard  thy  vile  thoughts  by  father 

ing  them 

On  me?  '  cried  Dante,  seizing  swift  the  stock 
The  varlet  held,  and  laid  the  blows  on  him. 
FALCO. 
Ay,  Dante  preaches  tortures  should  be  tried 

*  Sachetti. 


Act  II  DANTE  75 

On  those  whose  lawless  touch,  soils  poesy's 

robe. 

Ape's  hairy  paw  can  with  rude  grasp  deface 
A  Giotto's  masterpiece;  an  idiot  can 
With  sinewy  strength  swing  high  in  crazy 

mirth 

A  ponderous  hammer  round  a  Psyche's  head, 
And  shatter  with  one  blow  a  faultless  gem 
Of  Grecian  sculptured  art,  and  cry :  *  Ha ! 

Ha! 

These  things  are  only  made.     I  can  unmake ! ' 
A  cur  can  snap  in  twain  a  lute's  sweet  strings 
And  mute  forever  make  its  dulcet  tones. 
Ape,  idiot,  cur  unite  in  men,  says  Dante, 
Who  with  coarse  hands  spoil  pictured  images 
Of    poet's    mind,    break    up    his    moulded 

thought, 

Or  change  to  discord  music  of  his  brain, 
And,  smiling,  mar  that  which  they  could  not 

make. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Trust  not  the  poets,  who,  surpassing  sophists 
In  sophistry,  are  full  of  reasons  as 
The  scented  honeycomb  with  cells;  with  smile 
Sweet  as  the  prisoned  liquid,  gold  within 
Yet  from  the  wood  elves'  nectar  differing 

wide, 


76  DANTE  Act  II 

For  he  who'd  rashly  sip  these  traitors'  sweets, 
Finds  subtle  poison  creeping  through  his 

veins, 

His  manhood  shrivelling  up  beneath  the  touch 
Of  feigning  friendship's  cloak — like  Hercules, 
Fire-wrapped  in  white  robe  stained  with  Nes- 

sus'  blood. 
MARCO. 

We   need    trust    friends,    though    some   are 

proven  safe 
To  trust  with  plans  as  cat  with  cream;  yet 

men 

Will  venture  hands  in  hornet's  nests  till  stung. 
But  Corso's  none.     He  proves  his  enmity 
E'en  when  he  smiles.    He  hath  more  strings 

to  bow 

Than  there  are  tendrils  on  a  sturdy  vine. 
He  watches  Guido,  like  snake  beneath  the 

grass 
May  wait  to  strike,  though  still  unfelt  his 

sting. 

DAL  COLLE. 
Thou'lt  feel  it  yet.    He  knows  thou'rt  not  his 

friend. 
FRANCESCA. 

O,  leave  the  eternal  fret  of  politics. 
[Holding  up  book  to  DAL  COLLE.] 


Act  II  DANTE  77 

See  this  fair  gift — a  new  illumined  missal 
Fra  Benedetto  wrought  for  me.    Each  page 
Is  rich  in  gold  and  crimson,  and  pale  blue, 
With  scrolls  and  flowers  full  of  heads  of 

saints. 
I  fear  my  thoughts  will  wander  from  the 

mass, 

When  feasting  eyes  on  it  in  church.     Even 
The  cover's  decked  with  lilies  of  our  town. 
MARCO. 

Alas,  our  Guelphic  lily's  red  with  blood — 
111  omen  for  the  Florentines  to-day. 
DINO.     [At  window  looking  into  the  street.] 
Here  is  a  fellow  making  mouths  at  me. 
[From  the  street  outside  a  clownish  fellow 
has  approached,  and  endeavors  to  ex 
press  himself  in  pantomime. ~\ 
FRANCESCA. 
Ho!  ho!    There's  nothing  strange  in  that, 

good  uncle! 

DlNO.     [Watching  through  the  window.] 
He  waves  his  hand,  and  motions  toward  the 

door. 

GlOVANNA.     [Approaching  the  window,  look 
ing  out  and  laughing."] 
And  lovingly  he  strokes  the  bars.     In  faith 
He  must  be  Gita's  lover. 


78  DANTE  Act  II 

FRANCESCA. 
Glad  Gita! 

[They  laugh.] 
GEMMA. 

What  a  scare-crow.     He  sniffs  food  in  th'air. 
For  now  he  peers  into  the  kitchen  window. 
FRANCESCA. 
Hush!     Let's  watch.    He's  moving  nearer. 

Come,  Vanna. 

[They  all  run  of  to  street  through  rear.] 
DlNO.     [Turning,  and  finding  them  gone.] 
Vanished  1     Upon  my  soul,  'tis  witchcraft. 
The  room  was  full  of  petticoats — and  now 
Not  a  shred  of  one  remains. 
FALCO.      [Who   has   been    talking  with   DAL 
COLLE  and  MARCO.] 

Good  Dino, 

Is  some  stranger  needing  help? 
DINO. 

Methinks 

'Tis  but  a  witless  fool  seeking  some  dinner. 
[Re-enter  ladies,  with  laughter,  pushing  in 

a  clown.'] 
FRANCESCA. 

Good  host,  solve  us  this  riddle,  if  thou  canst. 
FALCO. 
Speak,  fellow,  what  brings  thee  here  ? 


Act  II  DANTE  79 

CLOWN. 

A  lady. 
DINO. 

No  lady  would  own  thy  legs,  and  'twas  they 
That  brought  thee  hither. 
MARCO. 

Speak  him  fair.     Good  fellow, 
What  lady? 
CLOWN.     [Scratching  his  head.] 

I  know  not. 
GEMMA. 

Was  she  fair,  or 
Was  she  dark? 

GlOVANNA. 

Tall   or  short?     Canst   not   describe 
her? 

[CLOWN  shakes   his  head.} 
FRANCESCA. 
Were  her  words  lagging,  or  did  she  speak 

with  wit? 
CLOWN. 

She'd  wit.     She  sent  me  here. 

[Laughter.} 
FALCO. 

Upon  what  errand? 
CLOWN. 
'Twas  thee  she  wanted. 


8o  DANTE  Act  II 

FALCO. 

Yet  canst  not  tell  how  she  was  featured? 
CLOWN. 

She  had  a  nose. 
FRANCESCA. 

By  San  Giovanni,  thou  hast  much  observed. 
CLOWN. 

She  said  to  me,  *  Now  haste  thee,  lad,  to 

Falco,' 
[All  listen.} 

CLOWN. 

And  told  me  where  the  house  stood,  and — 

I'm  here. 
FALCO. 

What  wanted  she  with  me? 
CLOWN.     [Slowly.] 

She  said  'Make  haste.' 

GEMMA. 

Some  dame  hath  lost  her  heart  to  thee,  Ser 

Falco. 
CLOWN. 

The  lady  said  he  must  return  with  me. 

FRANCESCA. 

Grey  beards  find  favor  in  fair  lady's  eyes. 
Haste,  young  Falco,  O,  haste  to  keep  this 
tryst! 


Act  II  DANTE  8 1 

MARCO. 

A  madcap's  prank,  perchance. 
FALCO. 

Or  purblind  beldame 
Craving  help. 
CLOWN. 

Ay,  help's  the  word. 
MARCO. 

Come,  speak  out  I 
Tell  all  thou  knowest,  poor  fool. 

[CLOWN  stares  stupidly.] 
FALCO. 

Was't  to  help 
Someone  that's  ill? 
CtOWN.     [Brightening.'] 

Ay,  'tis  that — to  help  her. 
FRANCESCA. 

Who? 
CLOWN. 

The  other  lady. 
GlOVANNA. 

Which  other  lady? 

CLOWN. 

She  said  *  haste.' 
MARCO.     [Gently.'] 

Now,  which  said  'haste'? 


82  DANTE  'Act  11 

CLOWN. 

The  well  one, 
FALCO. 

Some  ailing  soul  hath  sent  the  lad  for  me. 

[Calling.'] 

Gita !     My  staff !     And  give  this  fellow  food. 
I  must  fare  forth  with  him  to  find  his  sender. 
FRANCESCA. 

And  in  thy  train  we'll  follow  to  pry  out 
What  lady  needs  thy  help. 
GIOVANNA. 

And  then  meet  Bice 
The  fairest  bride  in  Florence;  di  Bardi 
Must  treasure  her. 
FRANCESCA. 

He  doth;  he  worships  her. 
Alas!  poor  Dante — he  fares  ill  these  days. 
GIOVANNA.    [To  FALCO.] 

A  son-in-law  of  whom  thou  mayst  be  proud. 
FALCO.    • 

Thanks,  Vanna ;  I  know  di  Bardi's  value. 
FRANCESCA. 

A  greater  son-in-law  thou  couldst  have  had. 
FALCO. 

This  one  suffices. 

[GlTA  brings  FALCO'S  cloak,  etc.] 
But  come,  we'll  now  away. 


Act  II  DANTE  83 

FRANCESCA. 

Ay;  we'll  all  go  with  thee. 
DINO. 

And  who  with  me? 
FRANCESCA. 

Thou  dost  not  merit  goodly  company, 

Scoffing  at  love,  and  laughing  saints  to  scorn ; 

So,  while  we  flock  to  church,  go  get  a  witch, 

And  with  her  ride  a  broomstick  to  the  moon ! 
GEMMA. 

The  sun,  alack,  shone  hotly  as  we  came; 

I  fear  to  venture  out  at  noon,  Ser  Falco. 

I'd  rather  tarry  here  for  Beatrice. 
FALCO. 

Ay,  Gemma,  rest;  my  maids  will  wait  on  thee. 
DAL  COLLE.     [Aside  to  GEMMA.] 

Be  cautious,  Gemma.    Use  each  golden  mo 
ment 

When  thou  hast  Allighieri  here  alone. 

[Enter  PAGES  and  GlTA,  bringing  staff  and 
cloak  and  food  for  CLOWN.] 

FALCO. 

The  soldiers  throng  the  streets,  and  crowds 

are  stirring; 

Let  Lapo  bolt  and  guard  the  door,  admitting 
None  but  our  trusted  friends  till  I  return. 


84  DANTE  Act  II 

[Many  soldiers  are  seen  among  the  throng 

outside."] 
[Exit  GITA.] 
[FRANCESCA  locks  arms  with  MARCO  and 

they  start  to  go  into  the  street.'] 
FRANCESCA. 

Hail  to  the  merry  mummers,  piping  poets, 
And  all  the  gay  garbed  Florentines  to-day! 

GlOVANNA. 

And  hail  to  Falco's  dame  of  mystery ! 
[They  step  out  into  the  street.] 
[GlTA  crosses  to  the  window,  opens  the 

casement  and  looks  out.] 
GITA. 

There's  Dino  throwing  kisses  at  a  maid. 
Ay,  wine  and  wenches  are  the  only  Aves 
And  Paternosters  in  his  devil's  creed! 

[DlNO  walks  off.] 

[GlTA  closes  the  window;  takes  up  a  dis- 
taf,  and  begins  to  spin,  sitting  back  in 
the  hall  talking  to  GEMMA.  The  holi 
day  crowd  passes  the  entrance  in  the 
street.  DAL  COLLE  returns  looking 
about  till  CORSO  appears.  He  taps  him 
on  the  shoulder  and  they  step  aside  near 
the  doorway  of  FALCO'S  house.] 


Act  11  DANTE  85 

DAL  COLLE. 

Here  'mid  the  throng  of  idle  pleasure-seekers, 
Unwatched  we'll    coin   our   speeches   undis 
turbed, 
.Weighing  our  words,   so  if  there  be   false 

weight 

Among  them,  we  can  sift  it  out  till  naught 
But  metal  unalloyed  is  left  to  cast 
Into  our  general  treasury  of  thought. 
Vieri,  as  thou  truly  saidst,  wins  way 
Through   ducats   his  commercial   skill   hath 

gained. 
CORSO. 

And,  as  a  flagon  of  poor  flavored  wine 
Is  highly  named  its  tastelessness  to  hide, 
So  Cerchi's  poverty  of  head  and  heart 
He  seeks  to  cover  with  fine  soldier  names ; 
But  still  the  mud  he's  born  in  sticks  to  him. 
And  let  him  call  it  battle-stain — what  then? 
We  all  know  mud  from  blood  unless  we  squint 
With  both  our  eyes,  because  one  varlet  cries : 
1  This  through  thy  scornful  heart  shouldst 
thou  look  straight.' 

[Touching  his  dirk.] 

DAL  COLLE. 
Yet  Dante  values  Cerchi — calls  him  just. 


86  DANTE  Act  II 

CORSO. 

Ay,  Dante,  who,  forgetting  noble  birth, 
Renounces  rights  he's  heir  to,  enters  name 
On  register  with  leech  and  pothecary, 
So  he  may  claim  the  privilege  of  guild, 
Mixing  with  herd  he  builds  his  hopes  upon. 
'Tis  no  strange  sight  to  see  him  fondle  there 
One  of  that  herd,  who  higher  holds  his  head 
Than  we,  by  dint  of  treading  on  the  toes 
Of  meeker  men.    Ay,  Dante  values  him, 
And  yet  another  sayer  of  small  nothings — 
The  Cavalcanti  weakling,  aping  strength. 

DAL  COLLE. 

His  poems  do  not  lack  in  prettiness. 

CORSO. 

Nor  lack  they  baseness.     I  will  take  my  oath 
Such  scurvy  poet's  rhymes,  like  beggar's  garb, 
Are  picturesque  for  being  out  at  elbow. 
Dal  Colle,  these  Bianchi — one  and  all 
Must  writhe  beneath  our  heels  like  trodden 
snakes. 

DAL  COLLE. 
But  Dante  still  is  ours. 

CORSO. 

Pray  for  how  long  ? 

His  growing  power  in  Florence  but  begets 
The  love  of  more;  he  lays  aside  his  rank 


Act  II  DANTE  87 

To  gain  the  people's  will — and  then?    Why, 

then 
He'll  rule  the  despot  o'er  a  cringing  crowd. 

DAL  COLLE. 

And  yet  thou'lt  help  him  to  domestic  ties. 

He'll  marry  Gemma — not  our  party,  Corso. 
CORSO. 

I  give  him  thus  one  chance  in  game  of  life. 

The  barren  peace  that  Gemma  forces  on  me 

May  bear  no  fruit  but  dead  sea  apples. 

Our  schemes  to  win  him  to  our  cause  may 
fail. 

The  flag  of  peace,  once  flapped  before  my 
eyes, 

Is  torn  to  shreds.     Dante  still  pipes  to  fools. 

I  wish  our  swords  might  pin  to  earth  to-day 

Guido  and  Marco  treading  in  his  wake. 

DAL  COLLE. 

If  Marco'd  join  our  cause,  his  gold  were  ours, 
But  he  doth  linger  on  the  threshold  still, 
Baffling  our  aims  by  his  vile  stubbornness, 
Though  I  have  given  him  my  child  for  wife. 

CORSO. 

He  openly  hath  taken  sides  with  Dante, 
A  third  of  Florence  echoes  to  his  call. 
Let  us  complete  to-day  what  oft  hath  failed. 


88  DANTE  'Act  II 

Dante  and  Guido  must  be  foiled:     Marco 
Must  join  the  common  cause — be  ours,  or  die. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Shall  I  forget  he's  Cesca's  husband,  Corso? 
CORSO. 

A  curse  upon  his  kinship  if  it  block 
Our  way  to  better  things ;  so  let  him  bleed. 
Better  his  death  than  our  sore  defeat. 

[A  crowd  of  young  men  enter  and  roughly 

jostle  the  holiday  crowd.] 
[  CORSO  signs  to  DAL  COLLE  to  come  with 

him.     They  depart.] 

[Enter  DANTE  and  GUIDO  with  retainers. 
Crowd  greets  them.     They  pause  as  a 
scuffle  occurs.] 
STREET  CRIES. 

Now  Neri !     To  the  wall  with  the  Bianchi ! 
Nay!     Bianchi!     Bianchi!     Down  with  the 

Neri! 
GUIDO. 

Hark  to  the  sounds  that  celebrate  to-day! 
DANTE. 

Such  brawlers*  din  is  e'er  the  matin  hymn 
And  evensong  of  Florence  in  these  times. 
As  downy  chicks,  surprised  by  sudden  sound, 
Seek   shelter   swift    beneath   their   mother's 
plumes, 


DANTE  89 


So  do  my  scattered  thoughts,  fearing  great  ills 
Befall  my  town,  gather  beneath  the  wings 
Of  my  great  love,  to  brood  in  silence  there. 
These  turmoils  weigh  upon  my  soul,   dear 

friend, 

These   feuds  must   end  or   else   our   City's 
doomed. 

GUIDO. 
It's  Corso's  damned  Neri  1 

DANTE. 

And  Guido's  Bianchi. 

GUIDO. 

Would'st  spare  the  assassin  and  see  Corso 
Sheathe  in  my  breast  his  knife  ?    I  deemed  till 

now 
That  our  just  Dante  valued  life  of  friends. 

DANTE. 

That  I  do  love  thee  is  an  old,  old  song 
Unto  thine  ear;  that  I  hate  Corso  is 
No  newer  one;  but  justice  claims  its  due 
Ere  friendship,  Guido.     For  our  city's  good 
We  should  preach  peace,  and  peace,  and  ever 
peace. 

GUIDO. 

A  poet's  dream  is  never  statesman's  craft; 
Whose  party's  zeal  must  color  all  his  acts. 


90  DANTE  Act  II 

DANTE. 

A  patriot's  zeal  should  be  his  country's,  too. 
Ill  blood  'twixt  neighbors  splits  most  honest 

skulls, 

Destroying  wantonly,  homes,  rich  and  poor, 
Till  'stead  of  cheery  mart  and  street,  we  gain 
Gardingos*  to  our  cost.    I  would  these  jars 
Were  at  an  end,  and  private  interests  merged 
Into  a  self-forgetting,  noble  love 
Of  Florence  and  our  Italy,  for  both 
Should  claim  our  love  and  lives.     As  God  i* 

one, 

And  Nature  one  and  Mankind  one,  so  should 
Our  Nation  be  but  one  in  speech  and  thought. 
Then  from  our  Unity  would  others  grow, 
Till  Europe,  merging  to  a  mighty  whole, 
Could    challenge    continents    o'er    all    the 

earth — 
Supreme  in  her  united  strength  and  love. 

GuiDO. 

Thy  words  change  thoughts  of  mine  to  throb 
bing  deeds 

That  long  lay  hid  in  crannies  of  my  soul, 
Like  fern  seed  in  the  crevices  of  ruins, 
Starting  to  life  when  touched  by  genial  light. 

*  Gardingos  was  a  place  laid  waste  by  both  factions. 


Act  II  DANTE  91 

DANTE. 

All  dormant  good  bursts  into  bloom  when 

reached 
By  glory  of  the  Eternal  *  Who  all  moves. 

GUIDO. 

O!  ever  thou  art  poet  first,  then  patriot. 

DANTE. 

No !  lover  first,  and  when  I  near  this  house 
That  shelters  my  beloved  liege  lady,  faint 
I  grow — my  swaying  knees  scarce  bear  me  up. 

[DANTE  takes  GUIDO'S  arm,  and  they 
cross  to  the  house  as  GlTA  goes  to  the 
casement. ] 

GlTA.     [Looking  out  of  the  window.] 

Here  come  the  poets — our  grave  Dante  and 
His  faithful  Cavalcanti. 

[Turns  and  calls.] 
Hi !    Lapo I 

[Addresses  the  poets  who  have  reached  the 
door.] 

Patience,  good  Sers.     The  knave  will  open 

for  you. 

[LAPO  enters  and  unbolts  the  door  for 
DANTE  and  GUIDO.] 

*Vide  Paradiso,  Canto  I. 


92  DANTE  'Act  II 

[Enter  DANTE  and  GUIDO,  with  their  fol 
lowers.] 

GlTA.     [To  the  poets  as  they  enter.] 

Honored  Sers,  I  crave  your  pardon  for  delay. 
Ser  Falco,  but  a  moment  gone,  will  soon 
Return.     So  will  the  Donna  Beatrice. 
DANTE.    [To  GEMMA.] 

Glad  San  Giovanni's  Day  to  thee,  Madonna ! 
[GEMMA  bows  in  silent  acknowledgment.] 
[ToGiTA.] 
Good  Gita,  how  fares  my  sovereign  lady? 

GITA. 

Her  step  still  weak,  yet  did  she  go  to  Mass. 
Methought  it  was  a  risky  thing  to  do. 
Command  me,  Ser,  while  waiting  for  the  mas 
ter, 
Should  you  need  wine  or  sup. 

GUIDO. 

Thanks,  Gita — thanks. 

DANTE. 

Madonna  Beatrice's  sacred  zeal 

Has  led  her  'mid  a  crowd  of  rioters 

Too  boisterous  for  such  gentle  graciousness. 

GEMMA. 

She'll  soon  return.     I  felt  myself  too  faint 
To  mix  with  such  a  jostling  crowd  abroad. 


Act  II  DANTE  93 

GUIDO. 

Thou  'dost  look  pale.     Did  Vanna  go  with 
Falco  ? 

GEMMA. 

Ay,  and  Cesca,  too.    They're  bringing  Bice 
home. 

DANTE.     [Courteously.} 

Have  these  warm  days  already  wearied  thee? 
Corso  should  send  thee  to   the  mountains, 

where 
The   breezes   redden   cheeks,   like   generous 

wine. 

GUIDO. 

Dante's  prone  to  prowling  on  the  crags.    His 

muse 
The  sweeter  sings,  the  nearer  to  the  skies. 

DANTE. 

To  stand  and  see  great  cities  'neath  one's  feet, 
Vast  plains  and  valleys  reaching  east  and  west, 
With  distant  mountains  rearing  purple  peaks, 
Makes  man  feel  humble  in  his  littleness, 
And  puerile  the  endless  strife  for  wealth, 
Of  all  these  battling  human  ants  below. 
A  long,  deep  breath  of  pure,  unsullied  air, 
Sharp  with  the  freshness  of  the  snows  revives 


94  DANTE  Act  II 

The  soul,  strengthens  the  heart.     A  great, 

sweet  calm 

Comes  o'er  the  soul.     Madonna  Gemma,  hie 
Unto  the  mountains. 
GEMMA. 

[Alas,  their  calmness 
Would  not  allay  my  spirit's  restlessness. 

[GuiDO  has  opened  a  book  and  is  reading 

by  the  casement.] 
DANTE. 

Too  young  and  gracious  art  thou,  fair  Ma 
donna, 

To  meet  aught  in  this  life  to  cause  thee  pain. 
GEMMA. 

'Tis  pain  and  joy  commingled;  such  sweet 

sorrow 

As  spurs  thy  pen  to  write  its  sweetest  songs. 
DANTE.     [Surprised.] 

If  love  has  prest  a  thorn  into  thy  heart, 
Fear  not,  for  when  withdrawn,  'twill  burst  in 

bloom 

And  crown  thee  with  its  roses. 
GEMMA. 

Nay,  nay,  alas! 
DANTE. 

A  young  and  fair  Donati  will  never  lack 
For  ardent  wooers. 


Act  II  DANTE  95 

GEMMA. 

Love  does  not  alway  answer  love's  appeal. 
We  women  often  love  where  we're  unsought. 
DANTE. 

My  sex  must  stand  disgraced,  if  thou  art  left 
To  sigh  for  unresponsive  love,  Madonna. 
GEMMA. 
Thy  gentle  sympathy  is  balm  to  me. 

[She  turns  to  attendant  who  has  been  con 
versing  with  GITA.] 
We  will  await  the  lady  Beatrice  in  her  room. 

[To  DANTE  and  GUIDO.] 
A  short  farewell,  Messer  poets. 

[Exeunt  GEMMA,  attendants  and  GITA.] 
DANTE." 

The  maid  is  pale.    May  San  Giovanni  send 
Her  love  to  color  all  her  life  with  joy. 
O,  San  Giovanni,  how  June's  gracious  days 
Grew  bare  when  they  brought  sickness  to  my 

love— 
The  fragrant  flowers  seemed  to  lose  their 

scent, 

And  blue  to  fade  from  out  the  sapphire  sky, 
The  sun  to  lose  its  potency.     The  world 
Became  to  me  a  place  engulfed  in  woe. 
GUIDO.     [Joining  DANTE.] 

Sink  not  beneath  mishaps,  as  travellers  sink 


96  DANTE  'Act  II 

Beneath  the  blinding  snow  on  Switzer  heights, 
Lying  like  clod  benumbed,  a  senseless  weight, 
Till  fatal  slumber  slips,  unmarked,  to  death. 
DANTE. 

When  Beatrice  suffered,  life  seemed  death 
To  me,  who  lived  but  in  her  light.     Alas, 
Why  was  I  reft  of  power  to  see  my  lady 
When  fever  shook  her  tender  frame?     I'd 

fain 

Kneel  at  her  feet,  kiss  tears  off  silken  lash, 
As  Phoebus  kisses  dew  from  grass  at  dawn ; 
With  love  soothe  pain,  and  for  her  spend  my 

strength. 

Blest  was  the  lowliest  wench  to  wait  on  her. 
I  could,  alas,  but  stand  aloof  and  sigh. 
GuiDO. 

As  thou  hast  ever  played  a  conqueror's  part 
Through   bloodiest    frays,    so   bravely    face 

love's  war. 
DANTE. 

Prate  not  to  me  of  love;  prate  not  of  war. 
I  have  no  heart  to  face  love's  cruelties. 
A  dire  presentiment  o'ershadows  me. 
This  boasted  strength  of  mine  may  fail  me 

sadly. 

Some   haply   find   their  courage   born   full- 
grown, 


'Act  II  DANTE  97 

Like  Pallas  from  Jove's  front,  to  suit  the  hour, 
While  others  find  their  bravery  but  babe 
When  chance  may  give  it  birth;  so  found  I 

mine. 

It  sorry  suckling  proved  when  'mid  the  strife 
I  first  drew  blade  and  fought  at  Campaldino. 
Corso  then  showed  he  was  a  soldier  born. 
Like  birds,  men  stricken  fell  'neath  archers' 

aim; 

Rotella  and  Parvesa  shields  were  pierced 
By  trusty  lance,  smooth  swords  smote  skull- 

caps  through; 

While  foremost  in  the  ranks  rode  Feditori  I 
With  cry  of  *  Cavalier! ! '  or  '  Narbonne  1 ' 
When  wild  came  answer  back  from  Aretines 
And  Ghibellines  the  cry  of  *  San  Donate  1 ' 
Then  grew  my  courage  at  a  breath — a  man — 
And  fast  coursed  heated  blood  through  swol 
len  veins. 
We  met  our  foes  as  wave  would  break  on 

wave, 

Our  blows  and  bodies  mixed  in  bloody  whole. 
Fierce  raged  the  fight,  dense  dust  dimmed 

light  of  day, 

Till  sun  was  but  a  red  blot  in  the  sky, 
And  through  the  murky  gloom  crawled  ser 
pent-like 


98  DANTE  Act  II 

False  Ghibellines  to  reach  us  unawares 

Beneath  Palfreni  and  Ronzoni,  where 

They  wound  themselves  and  with  long  knives 

ripped  up 
Poor  brutes,  who  writhing  fell  and  brought 

to  earth 
Their  gallant  riders. 

Corso  Donati,  still 
Obedient  to  his  chief,  impatiently 
Had  watched  the  field — now   as   spectator 

stood 

No  longer.    *  Men,'  cried  he  aloud,  '  are  we 
To  look  thus  tamely  on,  so  we  may  pour 
In  ears  of  Florentine  the  dismal  tale 
Of  this  day's  dread  defeat  and  comrade's 

death? 

Or  must  I  risk  my  head  to  save  the  day? 
Let  us  but  charge,  and  if  we  fail  we  die 
With  brothers  bravely;   or,  if  victory 
God  grant  us,  I,  for  disobedience,  then 
The  penalty  will  pay,  and  let  who  will 
Come  to  Pistoria  for  my  head.' 

These  words 
Scarce  said,  when  he  and  his  two  hundred 

knights 
Dashed  deep  into  the  fight.    Guido  Novello, 


Act  II  DANTE  99 

The  Ghibelline's  brave  Bishop's  hope,  first 

stayed, 

Then  fled.    The  priestly  soldier  saw  all  lost, 
And  we  at  last  sought  death  in  one  mad 

charge  ; 
The  day  was  ours  I     Ah,  had  we  pushed  our 

steps 

On  to  Arezzo  then,  our  blades  still  wet, 
Would  well  have  forced  an  entrance  to  the 

town. 

'Delays  are  dangerous,  e'en  to  conquerors, 
For  hours  are  sharpest  weapons  to  thinking 

foes. 

Faster  than  spider's  web  are  spun  fresh  hopes, 
Fresh  plots  and  plans,  by  busy  brains,  while 

winds 
Are  drying  drops  on  sword  and  helm  and 

lance. 

Unless  through  lengthened  reign  of  peace  it 

comes, 
The  rust  that  dims  knights'  arms  dishonoreth 

souls. 

Faith  I     Campaldino's  battle  taught  me  more 
Than  all  the  lore  of  chivalry  I  learnt 
Through  youth.*     It  was  a  glorious  fight. 

*Vide  Napier's  Florentine  History. 


ioo  DANTE  Act  II 

Gumo. 

Why  sigh 

As  if  to  thee  a  twelve  months'  lapse  from  war 
Seemed  centuries?     Art  warrior  more  than 

poet? 
DANTE. 

My  prisoned  sighs  burst  forth  from  darkened 

heart 

Like  slaves  long  pent  up  in  cold  cells ;  but  war 
Was  not  the  jailor  that  undid  their  bars. 
'Twas  love  who  broke  their  chains — op'd  wide 

the  door. 
The  thought  that  I  could  prate  of  fight  long 

past 

When  light  of  one  fair  star  doth  wane  apace, 
Brought  contrite  heaviness  unto  my  heart. 
GUIDO. 

Sweet  Beatrice  oft  is  ill,  'tis  true, 

But    herbs    and    potions    will    restore    her 

strength. 
DANTE. 

The  jealous  angels  hover  near  her  couch; 
The  rustle  of  their  wings  is  in  my  ears; 
But  once  these  arms  enfold  her  as  my  bride, 
My  love  will  fetter  her  to  earth,  till  time 
Hath  gently  weaned  us  from  warm,  joys  of 

earth, 


Act  II  DANTE  101 

And  sobered  us  to  thoughts  of  heaven  alone. 

GUIDO. 

But  she's  di  Bardi's  bride. 

DANTE. 

Mine  is  her  heart, 

And  mine  she  is  in  life  here  and  hereafter. 
The  little  songs  I  sing  of  her  to-day 
Are  prelude  to  the  greatest  poem  I'll  pen 
To  glorify  her  name — her  saintly  love 
Will  send  me  wondrous  visions,  never  seen 
By  mortal  men — Hell's  gate  shall  ope  to  me 
And  Purgatory's  painful  path  shall  lead 
My  weary  steps  to  Paradise,  where  'mid 
The  shining  throng,  Beatrice  near  the  throne, 
I'll  find  a  sun  above  the  stars  of  heaven. 

[MARCO  is  seen  in  the  street  coming  back 
to  the  house:  GUIDO  at  the  casement  sees 
him  and  waves  to  him.] 
GUIDO. 

Here's  Marco,  amorously  sad,  while  parted 
E'en  for  an  hour  from  his  se'ennight  bride. 

[One  of  his  retainers  opens  the  door — enter 
MARCO  in  haste.} 

DANTE. 

What   stirring  news  hangs   on  thy  tongue, 
Marco? 


102  DANTE  Act  II 

MARCO. 

The  swords  are  clashing  once  again  in  Flor 
ence: 

I  passed  the  brawlers  as  I  hither  came. 
Another  riot,  born  this  morning,  hangs 
On  tongue  and  town.  Each  faction  fights  its 

rival. 

With  his  slight  escort,  Falco  pushed  his  way. 
Like  frightened  pullets  in  a  sudden  shower, 
The  women  scurry  home. 
DANTE. 

And  whither  Falco  ? 
MARCO. 

He  swore  he'd  reach  the  church  and  Beatrice. 
DANTE. 
He'd  reach  the  church  ?    What  meanest  thou  ? 

More  lies 
Behind  thy  speech.     Out  with  th'  assassin 

thoughts 
That  lurking  'neath  thy  words,  clasp  cold, 

keen  knives 
To  stab  me  through  and  through  the  soul. 

Come  forth, 
O  murderous  thieves,  to  kill  my  rest,  steal 

strength ; 

Better  to  face  worst  foe  than  live  in  dread 
Of  ambushed  ills.     Speak  out  thy  fears. 


Act  11  DANTE  103 

MARCO. 

They  say 

That  Beatrice  swooned  while  in  the  church — 
Is  like  to  die. 
DANTE. 

To  die — no,  no — not  yet  1 
My  Beatrice  must  not  die  1     Though  all  the 

hosts 
Of    white-winged    souls    and    halo-crowned 

saints 

Hymn  their  enthralling  welcomes  to  her  ear, 
My  love  must  charm  her  back  to  earth  again. 
To  die — to  lie  forever  hid  from  eyes 
That  live  but  for  her  beauty.    No,  not  yet  I 
Gumo. 

So  runs  the  rhyme  around  life's  vestment  hem. 
The  words  *  not  yet '  are  woven  into  fibre 
Of  fleshly  robe  we  don  at  natal  hour. 
*  Not  yet '  and  still  *  not  yet '  is  clearly  read 
E'en  in  our  life's  old  rags. 
DANTE. 

She  can  not  die 

Till  I  have  sung  my  lady's  fame  to  heights 
Untouched  by  poets  yet  of  any  age. 
GUIDO. 

.Can  sparrow's  chirps  keep  back  the  floods  of 
heaven  ? 


104  DANTE  Act  II 

Can  aspen's  trembling  stop  the  thunderbolt? 

Can  man's  weak  moaning  stay  one  dart  of 
death? 

Dante,  where  hides  thy  loved  philosophy? 
DANTE. 

Go  ask  the  cautious  snail  when  earthquakes 
rend 

The  meads  and  mounts,  where  lies  his  trusty 

shell. 
Gumo. 

Friend,  friend,  must  all  thy  future  dreams 

end  thus? 
DANTE. 

I  have  no  future  if  my  lady  'dies! 

Shall  worms  wax  fat  beneath  her  coffin  lid 

Upon  her  dainty  limbs?     No — no — O  God! 

She  must  not  die. 

[Sits  with  his  head  burled  In  his  hands.] 
MARCO. 

Dante,  arouse  thee  from  thy  dreams  of  love. 

As  patriot  arise,  there's  harm  afoot, 

One  of  my  men  o'erheard  some  private  speech 

Of  enemies  who  doom  thy  friends  to  death, 

Defeat  to  all  thy  plans,  and  banishment 

For  thee — 
DANTE. 

A  plot  to  drive  me  hence !     They'll  fail ! 


Act  II  DANTE  105 

But  through  their  knavery,  my  tenure  then 
As  Prior  may  be  short,  yet  long  enow 
To  hold  rebellious  Florence  in  my  grasp. 

GUIDO. 
This  means  cursed  Corso's  work.    O  Dante, 

act! 

Surround  him  and  his  men  while  in  the  streets 
And  trap  the  crafty  vulture  in  a  net. 

DANTE. 

In  the  open  men  must  snare  great  quarry: 
Treachery  is  poor  stepping-stone  to  honor. 

[He  takes  out  his  tablets  and  writes  on 
oneJ\ 

MARCO. 

Wilt  see  us  murdered? 
DANTE. 

Florence  will  judge  these  men: 
My   wise    colleagues,    the    Priors,    loathing 

feuds, 

Are  weighing  means?  to  end  these  senseless 
brawls. 

[Holding  up  tablet.'] 

This  summons  them  to  meeting  in  the  Square. 
Then  the  will  of  Florence  ye  shall  know  from 
me. 


io6  DANTE  'Act  II 

[He  hands  the  tablet  to  some  of  his  men 
with  a  few  words  aside.  The  men  leave 
instantly.] 

'Twill  take  most  active  heels  and  subtle  brains 
T'  outwit  Durante  Allighieri! 
GUIDO.     [At  window.] 

Thy  hawks  are  off,  soaring  as  for  a  prize, 
They'll  cleave  the  crowd,  and  soon  be  flutter 
ing  back. 

[Enter  FRANCESCA  NERLI,  GIOVANNA  and 
ladies  and  DINO  and  GEMMA  DONATI 
and  attendants.'] 
DANTE.     [Rises,    and   hurriedly   meets   them. 

The  ladies  surround  him.] 
What  news,  Giovanna !     Speak  I 
GIOVANNA. 

Would  that  to-day  had  never  dawned,  Guido  I 
FRANCESCA. 

Ill,  and  no  one  nigh ! 
LADIES. 

Alas,  sweet  Bice! 
DANTE.     [Impetuously.] 

Resolve  these  sentences  to  sense.     Speak  out ! 
The  truth — where  is  Madonna  Bice  ?    Speak ! 
FRANCESCA. 

When  she  fell  fainting  in  the  church,  the 
crowd 


Act  II  DANTE  107 

Waxed    great.     Her    father's   men    cleared 

space  around; 

One  of  her  women  sent  the  clown  to  us. 
Little  we  recked  'twas  Bice  needed  help, 
When  with  a  jest  we  sallied  forth  to  her. 
DANTE.     [Laying  a  hand  on  DINO'S  arm.] 

Dino,  the  truth — Beatrice— » 
DINO. 

Fear  not; 
No  harm  befalls  her  in  the  church.     Her 

maid 

Awaited  us  beneath  a  porch  near  by. 
The  street,  impact  with  battling,  raging  men, 
Placed  barrier  betwixt  us  and  our  goal. 
So  Falco  shouted  through  the  surging  crowd : 
'  Haste  thou  and  house  the  women ;  then  re 
turn 
With  men  to  bring  our  Beatrice  home.' 

DANTE.     [To  LAPO  and  men  who  are  coming 
in.] 

Arm  yourselves.    Fellows,  haste  1    Get  arms 

— we  must 
To  Falco.     Haste  I 

LAPO  AND  OTHERS. 

Ay,  we'll  get  arms.     Both  legs 
And  arms  are  at  our  master's  service. 


io8  DANTE  TAct  II 

DANTE.     [Imperiously.] 

Haste ! 

[Exeunt  LAPO  and  men.     DANTE   takes 
sword  from  wall,  which  he  examines. 
Also,  a  dirk.] 
GEMMA. 

0  day  of  woe  I 
FRANCESCA.    [To  MARCO.] 

O,  if  my  love  is  dear  to  thee,  stay  here ! 

1  do  implore  thee  go  not  into  Florence. 
MARCO. 

If  Florence  were  a  maid  and  I  most  false 
Thou  couldst  not  speak  of  her  more  jealously. 
I  must  get  men  and  join  the  Priors  and  Dante. 
Fear  not,  sweet  spouse,  I'll  be  with  thee  anon. 
[He  embraces  her  and  goes  out.] 

FRANCESCA.    [To  DANTE.] 
O  Dante,  use  thy  power  to  end  these  feuds. 
Thou  swayst  our  town ;  stir  it  to  better  issues. 

DANTE. 

Ay,  we  need  men  to  rule  with  iron  hand, 
To   quell   the   strifes  that  ruin  the   city's 

strength. 

These  sad  divisions  mine  our  party's  force, 
Like  glacial  cracks,  which  split  the  avalanche 
That  had  resisted  centuries  of  storms; 
By  its  internal  parting  rent  at  last 


'Act  II  DANTE  109 

From  lofty  mountain  once  it  proudly  crowned, 
And  in  its  fall  annihilates  itself, 
As  well  as  country  that  it  falls  upon. 
In  vain  we  call  on  patron  saint,  St.  John, 
And  trust  him  as  defender  of  our  town, 
While  in  our  hearts  are  lingering  bitter  hates 
Proclaiming  us  still  worshippers  of  Mars, 
Whose  statue  yet  adorns  the  Ponte  Veccio. 
GEMMA,     [Aside.] 

Now  let  my  woman's  will  beat  down  my 

fears, 

And  like  a  conqueror  o'er-ride  my  heart, 
Till  I  have  played  my  desperate  part  to-day. 

[Approaches  DANTE.] 
[Aloud.] 

And  must  thou  go  with  Falco's  men? 
DANTE. 

Could  I 
Wait  here,  not  knowing  how  my  lady  fares? 

[Impatiently.'] 
Where  linger  those  base  knaves?     We  must 

away! 

[Re-enter  LAPO  and  men,  armed.] 
At  last!     Now  forward!     Haste  to  join  thy 

master, 
And  fight  for  him  as  if,  by  San  Giovanni, 


no  DANTE  Act  II 

Thy  soul's   salvation  hung  on   each  sword 

thrust. 
THE  MEN. 

By  the  three  kings  we  swear  it,  we  swear  it  1 
DANTE. 

Away  I 

[GEMMA  starts  to  follow  him.    Exit  with 
men.} 


CURTAIN 


ACT    III 

Church  of  San  Giovanni:  Vacca  Tower  in  the 
distance.  The  Square  is  full  of  holiday  seek 
ers — some  already  quarrelling.  On  the  right 
two  nobles  sit  playing  chess.  On  the  left,  peo 
ple  are  gathering.  There  are  citizens,  soldiers, 
an  ass  driver  selling  milk,  a  charlatan  calling 
his  wares,  boys  playing  hazard  with  dice. 

CHARLATAN. 

Come,  come  1     Be  thine  own  apothecary. 
Ho!    Presto!     Try  but  the  breadth  of  fly's 

wing 

Of  this  magic  salve,  and  mend  thy  bones ; 
Rub  but  a  gnat's  Weight  of  it  on  thy  bald  head 
And  lo !     Thou'lt  have  an  avalanche  of  hair. 

[CHARLATAN  himself  is  bald.] 
FIRST  CITIZEN. 

Body  o'  Bacchus !  thou  hast  not  tried  it,  then, 
Upon  thyself! 
SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Faith,  the  bear  needs  his  own  grease. 
CHARLATAN. 

Doth  thy  wife,  blackbeard,  keep  the  street 
awake 

in 


ii2  DANTE  Act  111 

With  loud,  unseemly  clamors  in  the  night? 
Oil  but  her  tongue  with  this — I'll  promise 

thee 

The  chatter  will  cease. 
SECOND  CITIZEN. 

'Twould  be  a  charity 

To  use  his  salve  upon  his  chattering  tongue. 
CHARLATAN. 

And  kinder  still,  to  use  it  on  thy  wit. 
A  PEASANT.    [To  CHARLATAN.] 

Is't  good  for  earache,  for  that  doth  plague 

me  much? 
CHARLATAN. 

Ay,  and  for  the  tooth  and  stomach  ache,  old 

man. 

[He  sells  some.] 
FIRST  CITIZEN. 

I'll  try  the  varlet's  wares  to  test  his  words. 
CHARLATAN. 

Doth  memory  fail — but  rub  this  on  thy  tem 
ples, 
And  thou'lt  recall  what  happened  ere  thy 

birth. 
Ass  DRIVER. 

Now,  surely,  as  the  devil  hath  a  tail, 

Thou  must  be  rubbing  thine  own  temples  well 

To  recollect  all  thy  long-winded  jargon ! 


Act  III  DANTE  113 

[Crowd  closes  tirpund  CHARLATAN.] 

[A  lady  enters  and  passes  the  chessplay 
ers.'] 

[A  boy  is  nailing  NOBLE'S  cloak  to  the 
bench  on  which  he  is  sitting.] 

LADY. 

Greeting,  good  Ser,  greeting  to  our  friends. 
[NOBLE  attempts  to  rise,  but  is  held  fast 

by  the  cloak  nailed  to  the  bench.] 
LADY. 

Still  thou  sittest;  thou  hast  no  manners,  man. 
NOBLE. 

In  vain  I  try  to  rise,  by  San  Giovanni! 
LADY. 
I  prithee  swear  not.    Tho'  thy  tongue  rapped 

out 

In  good  round  oaths  the  name  of  every  saint, 
Thy  sophistry  would  not  convert  my  logic. 

[ NOBLE  springs  up,  leaving  part  of  cloak 
fast.] 

NOBLE. 

Madonna !    Thou  seest  my  cloak  was  caught. 

A  nail, 

A  sinning  nail  kept  my  legs  laggard.     Now 
Thou  dost  not  think  I  would  not  rise  for  thee  ? 


H4  DANTE  r Act  III 

LADY. 

I  think — what  matters  what  I  think?    Good- 
day. 

[Exit  LADY.] 
FIRST  NOBLE. 

Ay — but  the  nail — 
SECOND  NOBLE. 

Ay,  ay,  butt  it,  butt  it. 
FIRST  NOBLE. 

Thou  cursed  spike,  to  spoil  both  cloak  and 

temper ! 
SECOND  NOBLE. 

And  game.    Who  played  this  churlish  trick? 
FIRST  NOBLE. 

Ay,  who? 

[He  looks  round  at  boys  near  him.] 

Knowing,  his  inch  of  iron  I  would  pay 
By  promptly  putting  in  his  hide  some  steel. 
FIRST  LAD. 

'Twas  he  who  nailed  thy  coat. 
SECOND  LAD. 

Thou  liest! 
THIRD  LAD. 

Thou  liest, 

As  all  the  Neri  do.    Take  that  I 
[They  fight.] 


Act  III  DANTE  115 

A  CITIZEN. 

Fair  play, 
Ye  scurvy  Bianchi  I 
FIRST  LAD. 

Hoi     Out  on  ye  there, 
Ye  unwashed  Neri! 
SECOND  LAD. 

He's  hit — ho !  he's  hit  I 
A  CITIZEN. 

Smite  him  from  crown  to  sole,  thou  halting 

fool! 
SECOND  NOBLE. 

'Tis  one  more -grasshopper  down  m  the  dust! 
FIRST  NOBLE. 
Now,  Neri,  we  Bianchi  will  teach  ye  courage ! 

{Enter  CORSO  and  DAL  COLLE  and  retain 
ers.  CORSO  and  his  men  join  in  the 
scrimmage.'] 

DAL  COLLE.     [Aside.} 

0  sin,  conceived  of  fell  temptation, 
And  born  of  opportunity!     In  vain 

1  strive  with  thee.     Seeming  afar  but  shade 
Scarce  worth  the  fighting;  near,  a  substance 

foul, 

Most  deadly  real — a  hydra-headed  foe — 
A  protean  horror  that  entwines  around  me 


DANTE  Act  III 


Cold,   callous  coils,   till,   strangled,   I   must 

yield 

Its  slave  and  victim,  every  sense  its  own, 
While  hotter  grows  the  stifling  air  about. 
Hell's  breath  seems  seething  up  beneath  my 

feet, 

And  spirit  voices  echo  —  lost  —  lost  —  lost! 
Yet  Marco's  grown  a  deadly  foe  to-day 
And  self-defense  calls  for  his  -swift  removal. 
[Enter    messenger    hurriedly    and    as    he 
pushes  his  way  through  the  crowd  he 
calls  out."] 
MESSENGER. 
Put  up  your  swords  —  ho!  peace  the  Priors 

preach  — 
Put  up  your  swords,  the  Priors  come  and  sol 

diers. 
[Exit.] 
[Some  of  the  fighting  stops:  the  Vacca  be 

gins  tolling.] 
FIRST  CITIZEN. 

List  to  the  bell.    The  Vacca  calls  aloud. 
What   means   this   hasty   summons?    What 

new  wrongs 
Are  we   to   right?    What  right  to  wrong 

again? 
[Enter  more  citizens.] 


'Act  III  DANTE  117 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 

'Tis  noon;  behold  me  Beppo  Bianca  here. 
My  bales  t'unpack  themselves  are  idly  left, 
And  I  wait  to  be  asked  why  came  I  here. 
As  yet  the  reason  is  as  clear  to  me 
As  addled  egg  to  housewife. 
THIRD  CITIZEN. 

Thine  own  pate 
Must  addled  be,  if  thou  knowst  not  that 

Dante 

And  the  Priors  are  meeting  here  to-day. 
This  message  has  been  sent  throughout  the 

town. 
Ay,  Dante's  wise  and  cares  for  th'  common 

weal. 
SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Ay,  ay;  he  joined  thy  guild — most  valiant 

Lapo. 

[Enter  MARCO  and  men;  they  join  some  of 
the  youths.     CORSO'S  men  are  pushing  to 
the  wall.} 
CORSO. 

How,  Marco — art  fighting  for  the  Bianchi, 
When  Cesca's  father  and  her  kin  are  Neri? 
MARCO. 

A  Guelph  am  I,  and  that's  enow  for  me; 
And  I  defend  a  friend  when  he's  attacked. 


n8  DANTE  Act  III 

DAL  COLLE.     [Joining  CORSO.] 

Thou'rt  traitor,  Marco,  to  the  common  cause. 

[  CORSO' s  and  DAL  COLLE' s  men  surround 
MARCO.] 

MARCO.     [To  DAL  COLLE.] 

What  treachery  is  this — Dal  Colle — speak! 
CORSO.    [To  MARCO.] 

One  chance  we  offer  thee — swear  faith  to  us, 

Swear  that  from  Florence  we  will  exile  Dante. 
MARCO. 

As  I  loathe  thee,  I  swear  to  loathe  thine 

oaths. 
DAL  COLLE. 

No  jesting,  man !     'Twixt  life  and  death  thou 
stand'st. 

Give  us  a  yea,  thou'lt  live;  a  nay,  thou  diest. 
MARCO. 

Nay,  though  it  meant  for  me  a  thousand 

deaths. 
CORSO.     [Striking  him.'} 

One  death  thou'lt  find  sufficient  for  thy  years. 
MARCO; 

Traitors  I    Not  one  true  man  amongst  ye  all  ? 
CORSO. 

As  true  as  steel  when  'tis  to  slay  our  foes. 
[MARCO  is  attacked  from  all  sides.] 


'Act  111  DANTE  119 

MARCO.     [Wounded.} 

One  sword  'gainst  three.      How  brave  the 

Neri  are! 
DAL  COLLE.     [Striking  him.] 

Silence,  thou  whining  dog. 
CORSO. 

Ay,  silence  him. 

[One  of  CORSO'S  men  stabs  MARCO  in  the 
back.] 

MARCO.     [Falling.] 
Ye  villains !    O,  God  be  merciful  to  me  1 
Be  merciful,  ten-fold,  to  my  poor  Cesca! 

[He  dies.] 

[Cries  outside.] 

Donati ! 

Donati !     Down  with  the  Bianchi  I 
Allighieri ! 

Make  way  for  Dante! 
A  CITIZEN. 

There  Dante  comes  to  cow  the  fighting  mob. 

[CoRSO's  men  separate.  Some  shield  from 
view  MARCO'S  body.  Others  attack 
DANTE'S  and  GUIDO'S  retainers  as  they 
rush  in,  followed  by  DANTE  and  GUIDO 
CAVALCANTI.] 


DANTE  "Act  111 


GUIDO. 

Body  o*  Bacchus  1    But  some  fists  strike  hard ! 
DANTE. 

Art  hurt,  Guido? 
GUIDO. 

No,  no;  my  breath  but  failed 
For  lack  of  space  to  breathe  in  'gainst  the 

wall. 
The    shouting  mob  press  on  to  reach  the 

church. 

'Tis  our  own  men  at  odds  with  Corso's  crew ! 
DANTE. 

And  both  are  blocking  road  to  Beatrice  I 
On  to  church!     Out  of  my  way,  ye  varlets. 
[GEMMA  rushes  in  as  CORSO'S  men  menace 

DANTE.] 
GEMMA. 
O,  save  him !     Spare  our  Dante !    Though  all 

Florence 
Were  slain  I     O,  Corso,  take  my  life  for  his! 

[GEMMA  falls  at  DANTE'S  feet.} 
DANTE. 

Poor  maid!    Through  fright  her  wits  are 

wandering. 
CORSO. 

Art  thou  a  wanton  to  proclaim  thy  love 
In  public  street?    Hath  Dante  piped  to  thee 


'Act  111  DANTE  121 

In  secret  ?    Then  go  to  him  with  my  curses : 
Our  roof  no  longer  shelters  such  as  thou ! 

[He  thrusts  at  her  *nd  turns  away.] 
DANTE. 

Such  villainy  reaps  bloody  recompense. 
[DANTE  places  GEMMA  in  care  of  friends. 
\Then}  with  GuiDO,  presses  up  to  church 
'and  enters.} 
{[Enter  FRANCESCA  with  GIOVANNA  and 

an  attendant.] 
FRANCESCA. 

Against  all  warning  Marco's  thrust  his  head 
Into  the  lion's,  jaw's,  defying  Corso. 
GIOVANNA. 

Have  patience,  Cesca. 
FRANCESCA. 

Mine's  gone  with  Marco. 
CoRSO.     [Coming  up  to  them.] 

Back,  Madonna;  we  need  no  women  here! 
FRANCESCA. 

Till  solving  my  sore  doubts,  my  weary  feet 
Must  pace  the  stones  of  Florence,  though 

they  burn 
The  flesh   from   off   my  bones  like   heated 

ploughshares. 

There  is  a  very  cruelty  in  the  air, 
A  subtle  sense  of  guilt  and  passion  roused. 


122  DANTE  Act  III 

O,  let  me  to  my  father — 

[She  breaks  away  from  CORSO  and,  seeing 
her  father,  rushes  to  DAL  COLLE  who 
tries  to  turn  from  her.  She  clasps  his 
clock  and  sinks  upon  her  knees  before 
him.] 
FRANCESCA. 

Here  at  thy  feet, 

In  all  my  woman's  helplessness,  I  fall, 
Still,  still  thy  child,  to  plead  as  in  the  'days 
When  scarce  my  baby  hands  could  reach  thy 

knees, 

To  plead  for  what  to  me  is  more  than  life — 
My  husband — O,  give  me  back  my  Marco! 
The  crowd  was  yelping  ye  had  come  to  blows, 
And  though  I  know  thy  father  love  is  shield 
For  all  thy  daughter's  wedded  happiness, 
Still  other  hearts,  more  hardened,  throng  the 

streets. 
Father,  one  word  from  thee  will  spare,  me 

pain. 
Speak — where  is  Marco? 

[DAL  COLLE  turns  away.     She  looks  at 

CORSO  and  sees  a  spot  on  his  cloak."] 
ITo  CORSO.] 

There's  blood  upon  thee! 
O,  God— If  Marco's 


Act  HI  DANTE  123 

[FRANCESCA  rises  and  through  an  opening 

in    the    ranks    of    CORSO'S    men    sees 

MARCO'S     body.    She    rushes     to    the 

corpse  and  falls  on  her  knees  beside  it.~\ 

FRANCESCA. 

O,  he's  wounded.    Help ! 
My  Marco,  speak!    Where  art  thou  hurt? 

Look  up  I 

I'm  here — thy  Cesca — here  to  tend  on  thec. 
We'll  home,  and  there  I'll  nurse  thee  well 

again. 
[FRANCESCA   pauses   and   realizes   he   is 

de*d.] 
FRANCESCA. 

No — no — not  that  I     Speak  to  me — Marco 

-. — speak ! 
One  word — one  little  word!     My  love — my 

life! 
My  Marco — God!    Here  with  him  let  me 

die! 

[She  flings  herself  on  MARCO'S  body.] 
SOLDIERS.     [Entering.] 
Make   room — give  way!     For  the  Priori, 

room! 

[Enter  PRIORI.  CORSO'S  men  draw  up  in 
front  of  FRANCESCA  and  the  corpse, 
hiding  them  from  view  as  DANTE  and 


ii24  DANTE  Act  III 

GUIDO  appear  on  the  Church  steps  with 
FALCO.] 
STREET  CRIES. 

Down    with    the    Bianchi  1     'Neri  I      Neri  I 

Portinari  to  me! 
Cavalcanti !     Cavalcanti  I 
DANTE. 

We  must  disperse  this  crowd  so  Beatrice 
Can  restfully  be  brought  unto  her  home. 
FALCO. 
And  there,  God  willing,  we  can  nurse  her 

well. 
DANTE.     [To  the  People.] 

*  Peace!      In  Christ's  name,  peace!  Have  ye 

forgotten 
*The  word  first  sounded  in  the  shepherds' 

ears, 

*On  that  first  Christmas  Eve?    Not  Honor, 
*Strength,  Beauty,  Wealth! — but  peace!  did 

angels  sing, 
Put  up  your  swords;  let  not  your  brethren 

bleed. 
[Mob  resumes  shouting.    PRIORI  advance 

toward  the  Church.] 
DANTE. 

*  Peace  be  with  you!    This  salutation  was 

*D*  Monarchia. 


Act  III  DANTE  125 

*  From  our  Lord   Christ,    for  it  behooved 

Him, 
*As    our    great    Saviour,    in    this    greeting 

sweet 
*To  bless  us  with  the  best  of  blessings — 

Peace  I 
Put  up   your  swords — I   say,   put  up   your 

swords ! 
STREET  CRIES. 
Ay,  peace!     Peace!     Put  up  your  swords! 

Hear  Dante! 
[DANTE  descends  to  the  last  steps  of  the 

church    where    the    PRIORI    meet    him. 

Soldiers  stand  on  guard.] 
RENEWED  CRIES. 

Allighieri!     Dante  Allighieri! 
Let's  hear  our  poet ! — let  Dante  speak  I 
[DANTE    has    been    speaking    to    PRIORI 

aside.] 
DANTE. 

My  friends,  when  I  did  ask  that  we  should 

meet, 

'Twas  for  no  idle  jest.     We  do  not  need 
Some  strange  new  pageant — no  gay  lords  of 

love 
With  train  of  tinselled,  white-robed  votaries. 

*  De  Monarchic. 


126  DANTE  'Act  III 

Such  joys  belong  to  calmer  hours  than  these. 

We  need  our  grandsires'  days  when  high 
dames  spun 

In  distaff  glorying  more  than  in  their  jewels; 

*When  painted  face  was  deemed  a  sore  dis 
grace, 

*And  women  for  simplicity  were  loved; 

*When  proudest  noble  clasped  his  cloak  with 
bone, 

*And  girded  waist  with  leathern  belt;  when 
man 

*Felt  not  the  want  of  rich  habiliments. 

Possessions  have  their  worth,  but  they  are 
naught, 

Compared  to  virtue ;  think  ye  money  bags 

Have  handed  honored  names  down  to  these 
times  ? 

We  learn  that  Socrates  scarce  owned  three 
minae.** 

Would  these  few  ducats  satisfy  our  greed  ? 

Yet,  are  we  wiser  than  great  Plato's  master? 

We  need  what  served  our  sires — strong  si 
news — nerves 

Of  iron,  with  brave  hearts  and  unity. 

*  Paradise.  Canto  15. 
**  About  $50. 


Ad  III  DANTE  127 

Our  town  is  daily  menaced  by  fierce  foes: 
We  must  unite  to-day  within  her  walls 
If  we  would  conquer  enemies  without. 
We  must  unite  to  show  St.  Peter's  Vicar, 
That  of  the  Church  we  are  true  sons;  that 

ne'er 

*Is  Florentine  by  quenched,  inverted  torch 
Sent  to  unhonored  grave :  Unite  to  show 
The  rulers  of  the  world,  we  hold  our  own. 
These    party   zeals   are   like   the   mountain 

streams 
That  green  the  banks  they  touch,  and  turn 

the  mills; 

Of  use  to  farms  and  hamlets,  but  grander  far 
As  tributaries  to  some  nobler  river, 
That,    bearing    commerce    on    its    bosom, 

sweeps, 

Broadening  its  lordly  course  to  open  sea. 
The  Neri,  Bianchi,  Guelph  and  Ghibelline 
May    influence  some  towns,  but  they  should 

merge 

Into  one  mighty  stream  of  thought  and  act, 
One  grand,  harmonious  whole,  one  Italy, 
Bearing   its   wealth,   its  might,   in   glorious 

trumph 

*  Persons    excommunicated    were    buried    with    extin 
guished  and  inverted  torches. 


128  DANTE  Act  III 

To  the  great  tossing  ocean  of  the  world. 
If  we  would  learn  proud  line  in  history, 
We    must    attempt    the    greatest    conquest 

known — 

The  conquest  of  ourselves.    We  come — to 
day — 

Devising  how  we  best  can  peace  secure, 
For  Florence,  now  with  discord  rent. 

[Draws  out  a  paper."} 
And  I  with  my  colleagues  this  paper  bring 
Here  to  be  signed :  an  ordinance  by  which 
The  inciters  of  these  party  feuds  be  banished, 
As  baleful  to  the  welfare  of  this  town. 
CORSO. 

Banished?    And  who  dares  banish  us? 
DANTE. 

Thy  speech 

Betrays  thine  own  perception  of  the  wrong 
Thou  hast  done  Florence. 
DAL  COLLE. 

We  can  no  more  lay  claim  to  our  own  souls, 
If  one  man's  breath  blows  us  without  these 

walls. 
A  CITIZEN. 

What  say  the  Priors? 
CORSO. 

Ay,  let  them  speak. 


'Act  III  DANTE  129 

A  PRIOR. 

As  spokesman  for  the  rest,  I  do  attest 
That  we  agree  with  Dante's  reasoning. 
My  name  shall  witness  this. 

[He  signs. ] 
OTHER  PRIORS. 

And  mine. 
[Signs.] 

And  mine. 
[Signs.] 
FIRST  PRIOR. 

And  thus  we  hope  to  lessen  future  bloodshed. 
DAL  COLLE. 

Whose  name  stands  written  on  that  fateful 
list? 

CORSO. 

The   Florentines  should  best  decide  who'll 

drink 
From   foreign  wells — who'll  eat   an   exile's 

bread. 
DANTE. 

The  matter  is  decided  by  the  people. 
CORSO. 
Then  needs  no  tremor  shake  these  legs  of 

mine ; 

The  people's  choice,  the  soldiers'  friend,  the 
man 


130  DANTE  Act  III 

Who  risked  his  head  on  Campaldino's  plain 
For  our  town's   sake,  needs  be   her  trusty 

friend. 
SOLDIERS. 

Ay,  ay,  thou  art  our  friend.    Long  live  the 

Baron ! 
GUIDO. 

\Who  has  been  talking  with  his  men.] 
Then  long  live  strife,  deceits  and  lying  words. 
CORSO. 

Thou  rascal! 
DANTE. 

Your  quarrel  end  without  these  walls. 
CORSO. 

What— I? 
GUIDO. 

I,  Dante? 
DANTE. 

Both  of  ye  must  hence. 
A  CITIZEN. 

What !     Dante's  friend  share  fate  of  Dante's 

foe? 
GUIDO. 
And  thus  does  Dante  prove  his  love   for 

friends. 
DANTE. 
Before  the  Paradise  of  friendship  stands 


Act  III  DANTE  131 

An  angel  with  a  mighty  flaming  sword, 

And  '  Duty,'  *  Justice,'  are  his  warning  words. 

Ere  heart  of  mine  can  give  one  beat  for  thee, 

It  needs  must  throb  an  hundred  times  for 
Florence. 

Yet — O,  my  Guido,  if  thou  couldst  but  know 

How  much  my  heart  doth  daily  throb  for 
thee, 

'Twould  ease  thy  pain  at  turning  face  from 

home. 
GUIDO. 

Prate  of  thy  love  when  thy  acts  prove  that 

love. 
DANTE. 

Necessity,  not  malice,  prompts  my  acts; 

A  mightier  will  than  ours  controls  this  day. 

'Tis  Florence  speaks,  beseeching  peace! 

'Tis  Florence  speaks,  and  in  that  name  'de 
part! 
CORSO.     [Fiercely.} 

Not  I !    The  lily-livered  poet  may. 

Let  Guido  carol  loveless  odes  beyond 

Our  gates;  but  I  remain.     I'm  planted  here 

To  stay  by  people's  will — 

[Murmurs  among  the  crowd.'] 
Ay,  let  them  speak! 


132  DANTE  Act  III 

PEOPLE. 

We  want  the  baron!     Long  days  to  Corso! 
We  need  Donati !     Never  banish  him ! 
GUIDO.     [To  the  people.] 

Behold  your,  hero's  work!    A  stab  in  the 

back! 

[GuiDO,  aided  by  retainers,  pushes  aside 
the  crowd  that  concealed  MARCO'S  body 
from  view."] 

CORSO. 
At  times,   perforce,   justice  must  stain  our 

hands. 
GUIDO. 
Say  'hate*  'stead  'justice,'  as  nearer  to  the 

truth, 

If  truth  can  lodge  near  thee. 
DANTE.     [Seeing  corpse  for  the  first  time."} 

O,  Marco  murdered! 
[The  murmuring  crowd  changes  and  now 

threatens  CORSO.] 
A  PRIOR. 

There  lies  an  honest  man;  true   friend  to 

Florence ! 
A  CITIZEN. 

The  poor  throughout  the  town  will  miss  his 
dole. 


'Act  III  DANTE  133 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Ay,  banish  the  man  who  murdered  Marco. 
STREET  CRIES. 

Banish  him !  Banish  Corso ! 

Let  the  Priori  banish  him! 
DANTE.     {Conquering  his  emotion.] 

[To  CORSO.] 

Proud  man-,  we  only  banish  thee  from  home. 
Beware  thy  sins  exile  thee  not  from  Heaven ! 
CORSO. 

I  fear  not  Heaven,  nor  hell,  nor  Church,  nor 

devil ! 
And  that ! 

[Snapping  his  fingers.] 

For  thy  short-lived  authority  I 
DANTE. 

To  kennel,   curl     There  gnaw  thy  rotten 

bones; 
Leave  men  alone..    A  thing  like  thee  knows 

not 
The  love  of  home.     And  all  thy  country's 

woes 

Are  less  to  thee  than  battling  ants  in  sand. 
Thou  only  feelst  what  touches  thy  thick  hide. 
*  Justice  and  Mercy  scorn  to  notice  thee, 
*And  men  but  throw  a  glance  at  thee  and 
pass. 

*Divino  Comedia, 


134  DANTE  Act  III 

[Guards  seize  CoRSO.] 
[A  Monk,  with  crucifix  held  aloft,  comes 
out  of  the  Church.     Two  ladies  support 
ing  BEATRICE  follow.     They  pause  and 
BEATRICE  sinks  to  the  ground  between 
them.     GIOVANNA  joins  them.     FALCO 
and  DANTE  rush  to  her  side.] 
DANTE. 

Speak,  Vanna,  is  Bice — nay !  nay !  be  silent, 
Lest  with  thy  words  my  heartstrings  snap  in 

twain ! 
FALCO. 

O  Beatrice,  my  fairest  flower! 

[He  bows  his  head  weeping  at  her  feet.] 
GIOVANNA. 
Ay,  weep,  Falco,  weep,  for  nevermore  shall 

we 

Be  gladdened  by  sweet  Bice's  voice  on  earth. 
DANTE.     [Who  has  been  gazing  at  BEATRICE 

as  though  dazed.] 
Beatrice — Madonna — Beloved ! 

[He  kneels  beside  her  and  tries  to  put  his 

arms  around  her,] 
GIOVANNA. 

Stay,  stay  I     Intrude  not  on  a  father's  rights. 
DANTE.     [Wildly.] 

Away !  there  are  no  rights  as  strong  as  love's. 


Act  HI  DANTE  135 

She  is  but  mine,  still  mine — though  dying. 

mine. 

GIOVANNA. 
Yet  thine  no  more,  unless  thou'lt  claim  the 

dead. 
DANTE. 

Dead!      My  Beatrice   dead!      My  soul  es 
caped  from  me 
While  still  I  live! 
{He  kisses  BEATRICE.] 
Dead !     Beatrice ! 
[He  swoons.] 

• 

CURTAIN 


ACT  IV:     Scene  1. 

Entrance  to  a  cemetery  near  Florence.  Enter 
a  band  of  Pilgrims,  chanting.  They  escort 
Francesca  and  Dante's  daughter,  Bice,  who 
are  also  in  Pilgrim  garb.  The  scene  is  in  fad 
ing  twilight. 

FRANCESCA. 

Beneath  these  sombre  pines,  my  Bice,  rest; 
Thy  will  o'erleaps  thy  strength,  and  far  our 

goal. 
BICE. 

Though  twice  as  far  and  high  before  me  rose 
Range  upon  range  of  purple  hills  beyond 
That  must  be  scaled  ere   Dante   could   be 

reached, 

And  every  step  left  crimson  stain  behind; 
I'd  gladly  on,  all  toil  as  naught  to  me, 
When  it  will  bring  me  to  my  father's  side. 
FRANCESCA. 
And   all   my  steps   are  weighted  with   the 

thought 

Of  mine.     I  am  unfathered  by  grim  deeds, 
Unsexed  by  treason,  treachery  and  lies. 
Dal  Colic's  dead,  with  all  his  guilt  upon  him, 
136 


Scene  I  DANTE  137 

Without  a  moment  spared  for  prayer,  struck 

down 

Amidst  the  riot  fostered  by  his  friends— * 
BICE.     [Crossing  herself.] 
Pray  for  his  soul, 

Forgotten  be  his  sins.     He  was  thy  father. 
FRANCESCA. 
And  Marco,  slain  before  his  eyes  lies  there. 

[Indicating  cemetery."] 
The  moment  that  we  tarry  here,  I'll  kneel 
Beside  my  Marco's  grave. 
A  PILGRIM. 

Madonna  Cesca, 
Stay  not  too  long,  for  night  is  falling  fast. 

[FRANCESCA  and  BICE  enter  the  cemetery.] 
SECOND  PILGRIM. 

Alas,  that  Dante's  daughter 
Should  find  these  times  too  perilous  for  home  I 

[Enter  two  TRAVELLERS.] 
FIRST  TRAVELLER. 

Greetings,  good  pilgrims!    Whither  are  ye 
bound? 

FIRST  PILGRIM. 

Away  from  here,  to  other  stranger  shrines. 
SECOND  TRAVELLER. 

We  hasten  to  renew  our  love  for  Florence; 


138  DANTE  'Act IV 

For  twelve  long  months  we  loitered  in  far 

Spain, 

And  now  return  to  greet  old  friends  again. 
SECOND  PILGRIM. 

May  Heaven  grant  you  find  your  friends 

alive ! 

FIRST  TRAVELLER. 
What  mean  ye?    Has  plague  swept  o'er  the 

city? 
SECOND  PILGRIM. 

A  plague  of  ruffians,  ruthless  in  their  crimes. 
FIRST  TRAVELLER. 

Our  Priors — what  do  they? 
SECOND  PILGRIM. 

Alas,  the  Priors 
Were   driven    forth   when    Corso    ventured 

back! 
His  speech  inflamed  the  soldiers,  caught  the 

people. 

Red  riot  ruled  for  days.    A  council  then 
Was   held,    and    Bianchi    banished — Dante 

first! 
FIRST  TRAVELLER. 

Dante!     Durante  Allighieri  banished! 
FIRST  PILGRIM. 

0,  fortune  has  not  smiled  of  late  on  Flor 
ence; 


Scene  I  DANTE  139 

The  city's  rife  with  strife.    Sedition  breeds 

In  every  court.     Peace-loving  citizens 

Must  leave.    Their  only  safety  lies  in  flight. 

FIRST  TRAVELLER. 
This  news  to  us  bears  tragic  import,  father. 

SECOND  PILGRIM. 

My  sons,  betake  ye  to  another  town 
Until  these  feuds  have  spent  themselves  in 
blood. 

SECOND  TRAVELLER. 

To  stand  almost  upon  the  threshold  of 
Our  homes  and  then  turn  back! 

FIRST  TRAVELLER/ 

Better  than  death! 

FIRST  PILGRIM. 

Or  torture !     Corso  spares  nor  young  nor  old 
Of  those  who  favor  Dante ! 

SECOND  TRAVELLER. 
We  are  loyal 

And  could  not  turn  his  enemies.     Alas, 
That  Florence  so  repays  the  debt  she  owes 
Her  greatest  man! 

FIRST  TRAVELLER. 

We  will  not  wander  far, 
But  in  some  village  bide  till  we  can  send 


140  DANTE 


Some  message  unto  friends.     Farewell,  good 

father, 

We  crave  thy  blessing. 
SECOND  PILGRIM. 

May  the  Lord  protect 
Your  journeyings.     Farewell. 

[Exeunt  TRAVELLERS.] 
FIRST  PILGRIM. 

We  may  encounter 

More  travellers  to  turn  back  upon  the  road. 
A  YOUNG  PILGRIM. 

Is  Rome  to  be  our  goal?    Is  Boniface 
The  Bianchi's  friend?    Solve  me  this  riddle 

now; 

Are  we  lost  flies  in  priestly  web, 
Or  are  we  little  spiders  to  be  gorged 
On  sacred  Fly's  domain? 
AN  OLD  PILGRIM. 

I  love  not  jests. 

I'm  but  a  pilgrim,  not  a  politician, 
To  lapse  into  such  idle  sophistries. 

FIRST  PILGRIM. 

Those  well-fed  Politicians — woe  to  them ! 
A  starving  ass  is  fairer  sight  to  me; 
For,  at  his  worst,  the  beast  is  but  an  ass, 
While  politician  oft  is  ass  and  devil. 


Scene  7  DANTE  141 

SECOND  PILGRIM. 

We  are  too  near  the  blackened  ruins  of  pal 
aces. 

Dino,  vile  Corso's  tool,  doth  spy  abroad. 
Fagot  and  steel  may  lurk  in  every  shadow. 
We  must  be  gone! 

[Re-enter  FRANCESCA  and  BICE.] 

So  gentle  ladies,  come! 
FRANCESCA. 

Ay,  let  us  go.     Farewell,  thou  fatal  Flor 
ence! 
BICE. 

Farewell,  O  beauteous  Florence  that  Dante 

bore 

And  yet  rejects  him  from  her  breast  at  last. 
[PILGRIMS  pass  out,  chanting  softly.'] 
[Enter  UBERTO  and  ANTONIO,  in  monks' 
robes,  carrying  a  bundle.     They  are  fol 
lowed  by  several  young  NOBLEMEN.] 
UBERTO. 

Here  dwell  at  least  some  peaceful  Floren 
tines, 
Who  seek  no  fight  since  last  with  death  they 

strove. 

Here,  side  by  side,  they  lie  untroubled  now. 
Though  once  they  hotly  clashed  their  hands 
to  thighs, 


142  DANTE  Act  IV 

And  wrote  with  sword  red  answer  to  a  scoff. 
The    traitor    years    too    swiftly    steal    our 

strength, 

'And  leave  us  barely  time  with  trembling  lips 
To  say  Amen  to  life's  short  prayer. 
A  YOUTH. 

Uberto, 
Why  hast  thou  brought  us  to  the  Campo 

Santo  ? 

Why  were  we  told  to  meet  in  council  here? 
UBERTO. 

I  fain  to-night  would  see  my  friends  once; 

more, 

Ere  parting  from  my  home. 
YOUTH. 

Is  this  farewell? 
UBERTO. 

Lest  evil  days  o'ertake  two  gentle  pilgrims 
I  follow  in  the  friar's  wake ;  until 
Their  Mecca's  reached,  I'll  guard  the  wan 
derings 

Of  Cesca  and  Beatrice  my  liege  lady. 
A  lustrous  sorrow  crowns  her  loveliness. 
Betrayed  by  Boniface,  betrayed  by  Florence, 
Her  father  roams  a  weary  wanderer, 
Well   nigh    a   beggar,   through   most   parts 
where  one 


Scene  I  DANTE  143 

Melodious  tongue  is  heard.     Still  proud  and 

brave 
He    challenges    misfortune    and    bears    its 

wounds ; 

Is  driven  by  blasting  breath  of  poverty 
To  divers  ports — a  barque  sans  sails,  sans 

rudder. 

I  go  to  join  our  Dante.    Will  ye  come? 
ANTONIO. 

I  follow  thee.     My  sword  is  thine  till  death. 
UBERTO.     [To  the  others.} 

What,   none  but  we  to  join   the  banished 

Dante? 

Has  he  then  spent  his  years  in  vain  for  you? 
Did  he  not  sing  to  move  your  sluggish  souls, 
Teaching  the  higher  life  for  daily  needs? 
A  NOBLE. 
And  singing  of  Spring  and  happy  lovers,  aye 

Dante 

Was  erstwhile  yclept  the  baker's  happy  poet, 
So  friendly  was  he  with  the  lower  herd. 
UBERTO. 

For  shame  to  carp  at  foibles  of  the  great, 
Be  imitator  rather  of  his  virtues, 
And    draw    his    shining    robe    o'er    travel 

stains, 
He  won  in  marching  on  to  victory. 


144  DANTE  'Act  IV 

[He  draws  his  sword  and  holds  it  up."] 
Here  solemnly  I  consecrate  my  life 
To    highest    knighthood,    true    to    Dante's 

creed ; 

To  be  defender  of  all  woman's  honor, 
To  succor  weak  and  helpless,  lead  chaste  life, 
Be  true  to  friend  and  just  to  enemy, 
Fight  for  home,   for  Mother,   Church  and 

Florence, 

For  unity  in  all  loved  Italy. 
A  NOBLE. 

Uberto,  thou  art  right;  I'll  follow  thee. 
SEVERAL. 

I  pledge  to  follow  where  our  Dante  leads. 
UBERTO. 

Then  cloak  thine  armor  with  these  friar's 

robes 

To  mingle  with  the  pilgrim  throng  anon. 
[UBERTO  and  ANTONIO  open  the  bundle; 
they  take  out  Monk's  robes.     These  are 
put  on  the  young  men.] 
A  YOUTH. 

By  the  Holy  Rood,  I  love  adventure  I 
ANOTHER  YOUTH. 

And  I  a  just  revenge  on  some  must  take. 
UBERTO. 
Forget  thy  private  wrongs,  forego  thy  hate, 


Scene  I  DANTE  145 

Till  with  one  voice  we  Florentines  can  cry 
Shouting  defiance  at  all  foreign  rats 
Who  gnaw  into  the  stronghold  of  our  rights. 
For  love  of  justice,  not  for  sport  we  fight; 
As  free  men  swear  ye  all  to  follow  me, 
Pure,  loyal  knights  vowed  to  a  noble  life. 

THE  YOUNG  NOBLES. 

By  the  three  Kings  we  swear  it,  we  swear  it ! 

UBERTO. 

Hush,  I  hear  a  step. 

[They  conceal  themselves.  It  grows  dark. 
Enter  CORSO,  DONATI  and  THREE  FOL 
LOWERS.] 

CORSO. 

Art  sure  Uberto  came  this  way  to-night? 
A  FOLLOWER. 

He  left  the  city  with  a  friend  but  now, 

And  Dino  said  the.  Campo  Santo  was 

Their  trysting  place. 
CORSO. 

Ay,  Dino  serves  me  well 

As  fox  to  watch  this  hunted  lion's  whelp. 

The  price  he  asks  is  Beatrice's  hand, 

Gemma,  in  safety  housed,  demands  but  peace; 

Uberto  rears  his  youthful  crest  and  crows 

Defiance  to  my  will — this  arrogance 


146  DANTE  Act  IV 

Shall  be  stamped  out,  tho'  Bice  whines  for 

him. 

But  like  a  shell  I'll  grind  him  with  my  heel, 
Ashes  and  axe  and  flood,   for  all  damned 

Bianchi 
My  hand  can  reach — Uberto  falls  the  first. 

[To  a  FOLLOWER.] 
Guard  well  that  gate,  lest  he  pass  unawares. 

0  envious  night,  that  hides  my  destined  prey 
Still   from  my  itching   blade.     The  cursed 

fool! 

[FOLLOWER  crosses  to  gate.] 
Not  till  my  foot  rests  on  his  lying  throat 
Can  my  hot  thirsting  for  revenge  be  sated. 

UBERTO.     [Aside.} 

1  know  'tis  Corso  mutters,  so  beware ! 
A  skulking  figure  glided  to  the  gate; 

We  are  surrounded.     Courage,  friends,  unite, 
And  strike  a  blow  to-night  for  liberty. 

[Aloud.} 
Are  strangers  here? 

[UBERTO  advances."] 

CORSO. 

The  cub  comes  to  his  doom. 

UBERTO. 
A  voice  of  friend  or  foe  ? 


Scene  I  DANTE  147 

CORSO. 

Be  that  thy  answer. 
[  CORSO  strikes  at  UBERTO.] 
[To  his  men.] 

Ho,  fellows;  scatter  wide  these  praying  saints. 
UBERTO.     [Fighting.] 

Each  pilgrim's  rosary  to-night  is  steel. 

[The  YOUNG  MEN  throw  back  their  hoods 
and  rush  to  the  attack.  UBERTO  wounds 
CORSO,  and  a  companion  runs  him 
through.  Fight  barely  discernible  in  the 
dark.] 
CORSO. 

O,  death  to  reach  me 'through  a  boy — a  boyl 
[He  dies.] 

[CoRSo's  MEN  flee.] 
UBERTO. 

To  thee  our  thanks  to-night,  most  gracious 

Lord! 

[All  stand  with  bowed  heads  bared.] 
Now,  onward,  friends,  and  be  our  watchword 

'  Dante.* 
ALL. 
Ay,  Dante!    Dante!    Dante! 

CURTAIN 


ACT  IV:    Scene  II 

Ducal  Palace  at  Verona.  A  large  entrance 
hall;  on  one  side  steps  lead  out  into  the  dusk 
of  the  Garden;  on  the  right  is  an  alcove  with 
heavy  tapestries,  looped  back;  in  the  alcove  is 
a  wide  casement  with  a  deep  window  seat.  Ink 
horn  and  script  lie  on  the  latter.  In  the  rear 
is  a  door  leading  to  the  street. 

\The  curtain  rises  on  a  group  of  pages  sitting 
on  the  steps  to  the  alcove  with  hawks  fettered. 

Enter  Jester  and  Giotto. 
FIRST  PAGE. 

My  hawk  much  faster  flies  than  thine;  his 

eyes 

Shine  like  the  jewel  in  the  Ducal  ring. 
SECOND  PAGE. 

Mine   faster   flies — thou   knowest   it — mark 

this; 

How  strong  his  wing;  how  sharp  his  beak. 
FIRST  PAGE. 

Like  Dante's. 
{They  laugh.] 
JESTER. 

Stealing  my  jokes?    Hatch  thine  own  eggs, 
Cuckoo. 

148 


Scene  II  DANTE  149 

FIRST  PAGE. 

Nay,  not  thy  jokes.    They're  stale  as  last 

year's  fish. 
Who  cracks  thy  nuts  of  wit,  finds  dust  within. 

[JESTER  tumbles  the  PAGE  over.} 

JESTER. 

There,  lick  the  dust,  thou  most  rampageous 
urchin. 

SECOND  PAGE.     [To  Giotto.} 

As  friend  of  Dante,  urge  him  smooth  his 

scowls. 
The  Prince  ill  brooks  the  poet's  moodiness. 

GIOTTO. 

Those  scowls  are  born  of  base  ingratitude, 
And  triple  crown  of  pain ;  Beatrice's  death, 
The  failure  of  an  embassy — then  exile — 

SECOND  PAGE. 

The    first    was    eased    by    Dante    wedding 
Gemma. 

GIOTTO. 

Her  brother's  infamy  gave  her  to  Dante, 
His  heart  is  in  the  grave  of  Beatrice, 
Though  wife  and  babes  and  friends  claimed 
.   .  e'er  his  love, 
When-  Dante  first  found  haven  in  these  walls, 


150  DANTE  Act  IV 

*Each  wish  was  granted  ere  he  asked,  but 

now 

Can  Grande  treats  him  oft  less  courteously. 
PAGE. 

The  Prince's  wife  may  answer  for  such  sin. 
GIOTTO.     [Cautiously.] 

Her  Highness  is  both  wondrous,  wise  and 

fair. 
PAGE.     [Laughing.] 

And  comprehends  thy  keen  diplomacy. 
[JESTER  approaches  GIOTTO  with  a  low 
bow.] 

JESTER. 

Ho!    High  Day  to  thee! 
Thou  puissant  father  of  fat  ciphers,  hail  I 
Hail  to  paternity  of  nothings ! 
GIOTTO. 

Lies! 
JESTER. 

Nay,  truths,  proud  painter;  didst  not  make 

thee  great 
**With  one  round  O?    With  cipher,  zero, 

naught 
Conceive  it,  fashion  it  and  bring  it  forth  ? 

*  Divina  Comedia. 
**  Vide  Appendix. 


Scene  II  DANTE  151 

Shall  not  posterity  swear  by  thine  O? 

[Singing.] 
Sing  hoi 
Giotto's  O 
Brought  fame 
To  his  name. 
GIOTTO. 

Madonnas  meek  and  holy  children  may 

[Crosses  himself.} 

Keep  Giotto's  name  alive  some  centuries; 
'And  may  they,  too,  his  body  keep  alive ; 
We  artists  need  to  live  like  other  folk. 
JESTER. 

iWe  jesters  need  to  live  like  other  folk. 
If  brush  and  chisel  warm  and  feed  thee,  jokes 
'Are  food  and  fuel  for  me.     So  room  for  the 

fool! 

[He  turns  away  and  dances  a  few  steps  to 
ward  the  PAGES.] 
FIRST  PAGE. 

'Tis  time  to  feed  the  hawks,  come  Beppo, 

come. 
JESTER. 
Ay,  feed  these,  majesties  who  rule  this  Court. 

[Exit,  with  PAGES  laughing.] 
GIOTTO. 

How  all  this  royal  roystering 


152  DANTE 


Discordant  falls  upon  one  poet's  ear  — 
Can  Grande  has  too  diverse  aims  to-day, 
This  statesman  skilled  and  soldier  bold,  doth 

stretch 
Domains  throughout  the  north,  and  holds 

the  trust 

Of  Vicar-General  ;  yet  with  friends  he  lays 
His  rank  aside  and  wastes  whole  days  in  pleas 

ure, 
His  love  of  learning  shared  with  love  of 

hawks. 

[GlOTTO  seats  himself  and  reads.] 
[Enter  DANTE  slowly.] 

DANTE. 

Most  bitter  are  the  tears  that  dew  the  bread 
Of  beggary,  spoiling  each  savory  dish 
That's  doled  in  charity,  arousing  thirst 
For  satiate  waters  of  sweet  liberty. 

[Pause.] 

Ah,  had  I  Midas*  touch  to  turn  these  trees 
To  glistening  gold,  I'd  hew  them  limb  from 

limb, 

And  send  them  swift  into  the  niggard  hands 
That  ope  so  slowly  to  remove  my  wants. 
They'd  clasp  these  fast  and  firm,  flinging  as 
fuel 


Scene  II  DANTE  153 

The   golden   boughs   upon   their   household 

hearths, 

Feeding  their  fire  of  wanton  luxuries 
With  my  hard  gilded  thanks. 

Down,  down,  thou  dream 
To  thy  dominion,  shared  with  silent  sleep. 
What  am  I  now  to  prate  of  gold?    A  stone 
That  reckless  rolls  adown  the  hill  of  life; 
'A  feather  tossed  on  winds  of  charity; 
A  broken  straw,  scarce  crediting  the  truth 
That  once  its  stalk  upheld  rich  golden  grain, 
And  proudly  planted  root  in  native  soil. 
Gaunt    visaged     poverty,     dull-eyed,     lean- 
limbed, 
With    shriveled    skin,    o'erlapping    sunken 

paunch, 

And  ribs  like  ridges  in  a  ploughed  field — • 
Thou  fearful  spectre  shadowing  my  steps, 
Where  shall  I  turn  to  flee  thy  dread  embrace  ? 
The  laboring  hind  who  delves  his  plot  of 

earth 
Scarce  heeds  the  spectral  shade  o'er  threshold 

thrown, 
Save  when  crops  fail  and  sickness  steals  his 

hoard 
Of  hard-earned  ducats,  and  at  throat  he  feels 


154  DANTE  Act  IV 

The  tightening  grip  of  want's  cold  hand  and 

wakes 
Dreading  the  dawn  will  bring  this  ghost  his 

guest. 
But    foes,    familiar,    seem    at    length    half 

friends ; 

Old  griefs  in  some  lives  grow  to  daily  needs. 
Mixed  with  his  crop  of  fears,  a  tender  hope 
Buds  slowly  with  a  promise  of  fresh  joy, 
And  whispers  Fortune's  smiles  may  sun  him 

out 

Of  humble  home  into  a  larger  sphere; 
But  hath  no  pangs  for  proud  prosperity 
He   once    enjoyed.     He   neither    feels    nor 

knows 

The  anguish  of  regret  o'er  glory  gone, 
Eating  my  vitals  like  the  Spartan  fox, 
My  glutton  grief  still  clamors  for  fresh  food. 

O  Beatrice!    Only  thy  pure  soul 

Can  soothe  my  restless  spirit's  agony. 

One  thought  of  thee  drives  sin  and  sorrow 

far, 

rAs  morning  sun  dispels  the  summer  mist. 
Out  of  my  endless  grief,  a  monument 
Shall  rise,  bearing  thy  name,  to  honor  thee, 
Such  as  no  woman  ever  had  before, 


Scene  II  DANTE  155 

And  none  shall  ever  know  again  on  earth. 

[He  stands  absorbed  in  thought.] 
GIOTTO. 

[Shuts    his    book,    rises    and    crosses    to 
DANTE.] 

Still  meditating  on  thy  poem,  Dante? 
How  deep  are  thy  thoughts  digging  into  hell  ? 
DANTE. 

The  hell  I  rhyme  is  here.    This  earth  affords 
The  stuff  from  which  one  can  create  all  hells. 

GIOTTO. 

Poor  earth — the  scape-goat  of  the  preachers ! 
DANTE. 
Thou'rt  right.    The  fault  is  less  the  world's 

than  man's. 
Mark  Florence,  how  she  weeps  as  slave,  when 

she 
Might  reign  as  Queen — through  evils  crushed 

to  earth, 

Poisoned  by  vice ;  the  asp  hid  in  her  breast. 
GIOTTO. 

Hard  words  from  townsman,  Prior  and  Am 
bassador. 
DANTE. 
Erst  all  these  things;  but  now  a  wanderer, 


1 5  6  DANTE  'Act  IV 

Bereft  of  children,  wife  and  lands.  Hast 
thou 

Forgot  that  I  am  banished,  Giotto — Ban 
ished  ! 

Dost  thou  not  know  the  meaning  of  that 
word? 

To  live  forever  out  of  sight  and  sound 

Of  all  we  love;  to  bear  a  felon's  curse; 

To  tread  all  paths  save  one  that  leads  to 
home; 

To  live  and  die  unloved,  misjudged,  un 
blessed  ! 

[DANTE  pauses.] 

And  have  the  children  babble  on  the  street 
That  Dante  stole,  as  Prior,  public  funds! 
GIOTTO. 

That's  the  worst  crime  they  could  have  forged 

on  thee. 
DANTE. 

What  matters  how  the  blow  falls,  so  it  comes  ? 
All  sharpened  swords  behead,   though  one 

from  Rome 

And  one  from  Syria  date — we  die  the  same. 
Ay,  theft   and  murder  or  arson  let  them 

charge, 
And  rape  and  sacrilege — so  I  am  banished, 


Scene  II  DANTE  157 

What  matters  it  by  what   foul  means  'tis 

done? 
Though  at  the  reckoning  it  may  later  count. 

GIOTTO. 

We  nee'd  thee,  Dante.     Since  thy  exile,  Flor 
ence 

Is  rife  with  knavery.    Men,  callous  grown, 
Are  flaunting  out  their  sins  in  public  high 
ways, 

As  lousy  beggar  grins  in  sun-warmed  rags, 
And  loathsome  lepers  count  their  hideous 

sores. 
Thy  banishment  was  due  to  treachery. 

DANTE. 

When  wily  Corso  gained  the  Pontiff's  ear 
It  was  Bianchi  who  sent  me  to  Rome, 
Trusting  that  poet's  wit  and  eloquence 
Could  win  the  Holy  Father's  sympathy 
And  favorable  hearing  for  our  cause. 
But  Corso  lingered,  embassy  being  o'er; 
As  midwife  marks  with  silken  skein  the  wrist 
Of  elder  twin  lest  he  lose  heritage, 
So  marked  he  well  with  sacred  cord  of  Rome; 
His  love  of  power  that  twined  it  with  his 

feint 
At  patriotic  zeal.     He  prayed  aloud; 


158  DANTE  Act  IV, 

*  '  When  the  Vale  was  sending  to  the  Seven 

Hills 

Fresh  fuel  from  the  Forest  to  the  Altar, 
Each  stick  of  wood  be  an  Isaac  meekly  bound, 
For  sacrifice,  as  savory  offering 
Unto  the  God  of  Justice ' ;  but  the  Pope 
Suggested  that  in  the  Pontific  thicket 
A  ram  might  now  be  caught,  a  cause  evolved 
To  rivet  rival  factions'  feuds,  creating 
A  stopgap  for  the  leakage  of  his  power. 

GIOTTO. 

By  one  weak  act  of  clemency  we  saw 
Our  gold  in  stranger  hands,  our  houses  razed, 
The  Priors  driven  forth  and  Florence  fired. 
May  the  Lord  out  of  our  future  Paradise 
Keep  Corso. 

DANTE. 

Fear  not,  he's  pledged  to  Hell  already. 
Giotto,  our  enemies  may  laugh  and  gloat 
Over  the  blackened  ruins  of  our  homes 
And  lord  it  grimly  o'er  our  lands;  yet  free 
Beyond  the  traitors'  grasp  my  kingdom  lies. 

[Touching  his  manuscript.] 
To-day  we  weep  the  lost;  to-morrow  men 
Forget  we  lived.    Peace  to  our  ashes  then. 

*Vide  Appendix. 


Scene  II  DANTE  159 

The  vast  tribunal  of  uncounted  dead 

Dusts  dancing  feet  of  wantons ;  but  fresh,  full 

life 
Makes  men  forget  all  trace  of  past.     My 

name 

May  live— 
GIOTTO. 

Forever,  Dante  I 
DANTE. 

Ay, 

Perchance  as  poet,  that  one  reads  in  shade 
To  carefully  replace  on  silent  shelf, 
For  moths  to  flirt  with  and  the  dust  caress. 
As  man,  with  heart  to  bleed,  who'll  think  of 

me? 

A  shade  'mid  shadows  are  we  at  our  best 
Living  or  dead  but  shadows  in  the  sun ! 

GIOTTO. 

Thy  shadow  lengthens  o'er  all  Italy! 
Bethink  thee,    friend,   thou  must   exert  thy 

power 
And  sway  the  masses  from  thine  exile  roost. 

DANTE. 

How  will  a  waiting  crowd  afar  be  moved 
When  men  beside  me  fail  to  mark  my  words? 
Can  Grande  feared  for  private  ends  to  join 
The  Imperial  party,  hence  these  petty  feuds 


160  DANTE  'Act  IV 

Still  harass  Italy  since  Henry's  death. 
We  need  one  sovereign  hand  to  dominate 
These  countless  factions,  striving  each  to  rule. 
[Noise  of  laughing  and  talking  is  heard.] 
I  hear  the  buzzing  of  the  courtly  gnats; 
Stave  off  their  irksome  presence,  if  thou  canst 
The  scented  twilight  lures  me  to  the  garden, 
When  dripping  wax  and  torches  light  these 

halls, 

A  myriad  of  fire-flies  will  flash  their  sparks 
Against  the  darkening  pines,  in  rivalry 
Of  winking  stars  that  gem  the  blue  above. 
So  let  the  sunset  deepen  into  night, 
Without  my  wearied  presence  at  the  Court. 
GIOTTO. 

Thy  wishes,  Dante,  are  commands  to  me. 
[DANTE  thanks  GIOTTO  with  a  gesture  and 

goes  Into  the  garderi  by  the  steps."] 
[Enter  PAGES  and  COURTIERS,  followed  by 

DINO  BRUNINI  &nd  RETAINERS.] 
A  PAGE. 

A  messenger  for  Dante  AUighieri  I 
DINO.    [To  GIOTTO.] 

So,  Ser,  we  meet  again. 
GIOTTO. 

As  much  good  friends 
As  when  we  parted. 


Scene  II  DANTE  161 

DINO. 

Ser,  I  cry  thee  quits; 

The  friendship  was  of  thy  conceiving  then. 
For  merrily  your  tongue  wagged  with  your 

brush 

When  limning  Dante's  features,  and  abuse 
Was  e'er  my  portion. 
GIOTTO. 

I  knew  thee  crnven, 

Siding  with  Dante's  enemies,  and  time 
Hath  justified  my  scornful  words  to  thee. 
Thou'st  favored  puddings  more  than  politics, 
And  wine   and  wenches   more   than   Pater 
nosters 

And  daily  Aves  learnt  in  thy  damned  creed. 
DINO. 

The  artist's  angered.    Body  o'  Bacchus,  Ser, 
Thou  art  but  quicksand  of  false  pride — pitfall 
Of  seething  passions;  prickly  hedge  of  tem 
pers! 
JESTER. 

'Tis  sweet  to  note  these  doting  doves  con 
verse  ! 
GIOTTO. 

What  is  thy  errand  here,  Ser  Dino?  speak. 
DINO. 

I  bring  from  Florence  message  unto  Dante. 


1 62  DANTE  Act  IV 

GIOTTO. 

I  put  no  credence  in  such  embassy. 

DlNO. 

All  prejudice,  good  neighbor — prejudice. 
GIOTTO. 

Nay,  libertines  and  cowards  suit  me  not. 
DlNO.     [Restraining  his  ire.'] 

Not  when  the  liberty  of  libertines 

And  coward's  courage  can  send  Dante  home? 

[Hands  papers  to  GIOTTO.] 
JESTER.     [While  GIOTTO  is  reading.] 

How  warring  spirits  love  to  shave  their  souls 

Till  not  one  hair  of  conscience  bristles  still; 

And  petty  virtues  harbor  greatest  vices. 

Commend  me  to  the  knight  who  laughs  the 
best. 

DlNO. 

Then  I'm  thy  model ;  fighting  charms  me  not. 
Nor  politics,  nor  all  that  furrows  brows; 
Nor  wasting  wars;  nor  turbulence  that  mars 
Our  pleasant  pastimes,  stunting  crops   and 

vintage. 

Security's  round  paunch  beseems  me  more 
Than  pale  anxiety's  lean  shank. 
JESTER. 

Why  then 
Dost  thou  embark  upon  an  embassy? 


Scene  II  DANTE  163 

DlNO. 

I  like  the  sights  at  stranger  courts;  to  learn 
A  newer  mode  of  jerkin's  cut;  fresh  gossip. 
And  maids  and  matrons  smile  the  same  abroad 
As  wenches  do  at  home. 
JESTER. 

Thou'rt  a  proper  man — 
DlNO.     [To   GiOTTO,   who   is  standing  apart 

meditating.'] 

Well,   shall   I   send   for  leech  to  loose  thy 
tongue  ? 

GIOTTO. 

So  light  thy  words,  they  scarce  the  atmosphere 
Did  stir;  so  weighty  all  my  thoughts. 

DlNO. 

Come,  come, 
I'll  share  them. 
GIOTTO. 

Thou!     Can  toads  fly? 

DlNO. 

Ay,  in  a  shower. 
GIOTTO. 

The  witchcraft  landed  them  in  air 
To  pitch  them  back  into  their  proper  puddles. 
No  wings  bore  such  from  earth.     Can  thy 
thoughts  fly? 


164  DANTE  Act  IV 

DINO. 

Ay,  to  my  dinner. 
GIOTTO. 

Then  fly  thou  with  them. 
DINO.     [Aside.] 

What  gentle  wit;  what  dainty  courtesy; 

I  love  that  man — to  canonizing  him. 
[Aloud.] 

Give  me  the  papers;  I  must  to  the  Prince. 
GIOTTO. 

As  all  thy  friends  are  Dante's  enemies, 

He'll  place  small  faith  in  thee  as  messenger. 
DINO.     [Changing  his  tone.] 

Then  Dante  may  in  exile  end  his  days. 

Come,  let  our  hands  now  meet  in  friendly 
grasp. 

If  we  seek  exercise  for  hip  and  heel, 

Let's   weary   limbs  to   lightsome   tune    and 
verse, 

Instead  of  clashing  steel,  try  Ridda's  maze.* 
GIOTTO. 

'Tis  well  for  those  who  stay  at  home  to  cry 

*  Dance,  dance;  shake  merry  tambourine  aloft, 

And  clasp  glad  castanets ' ;  but  what  of  those 

Who  wend  their  halting  steps  abroad  from 
Florence  ? 

*The  Ridda  was  an  old  dance  with  song. 


Scene  II  DANTE  165 

I  will  to  Dante,  and  impart  thy  news. 

[Exit  to  garden.] 
DINO.     [To  a  COURTIER.] 

When  does  the  Prince  return? 
FIRST  COURTIER. 

We  wait  him  daily. 
SECOND  COURTIER. 

See,  the  Princess  conies  to  hear  thy  embassy. 
[Enter    GIOVANNA     D'ANTIOCHIA    and 

LADIES.] 
JESTER. 

Way  for  the  Princess  I      Now  is  thy  time, 

Dino! 
DINO. 

Pray  Fortune's  Wheel  play  me  no  trick,  and 

drag 
Me   smiling   'neath   her   rim   to   leave   me 

powder. 
JESTER. 
Then  mount  it,  man;  be  off  and  grab  the 

spokes. 
DINO.     [Advancing."] 

Most  gracious  Princess,  I * 

JESTER.     [Interrupting.] 

Ho,  seize  him  as  a  traitor! 
PRINCESS. 
As  traitor,  why? 


1 66  DANTE  Act  IV, 

JESTER. 

No  true  man  he,  madonna. 

DlNO. 

For  shame! 
JESTER. 

For  truth  I     I'd  rather  cry,  good  Dino : 
So  well  equipped;  not  e'en  a  hole  upon  him; 
No  rag  nor  tatter  from  his  crown  to  sole. 
Thus  playing  gallant,  he  is  still  a  beggar. 
DINO. 

That  here  I  stand  a  beggar,  is  a  fact : 
This  my  petition;  this  I  beg  thee  read! 

[Hands  paper  to  PRINCESS.] 
PRINCESS. 

We  bid  thee  welcome  to  the  Court,  Brunini ! 

[Looks  at  paper.] 
From  Florence — about  our  poet?    Where  is 

Dante? 
JESTER. 

In  hell  or  purgatory.    There  he  sups. 

[All  laugh.} 
And  spends  the  nights,  too,  when  the  fit's 

upon  him. 
DINO. 

I  come  from  Rome  as  well  as  Florence.     The 

Pope 
Would  gladly  reconcile  contending  feuds. 


Scene  II  DANTE  167 

PRINCESS. 
That's  difficult. 

DlNO. 

But  Mother  Church  ignores 
It's  difficult. 
PRINCESS. 

Unto  the  Church  we  bow 
Trusting  her  keener  judgment  will  spy  out 
Solution  where  our  poorer  sight  has  failed. 
Thus,  full  of  plans,  thou  layest  pleading  hand 
On  papal  skirt.    But  peace — not  war — thy 
theme  ? 

DlNO. 

Peace  with  our  foes,  who- might  become  our 

friends. 

When  Emperor  Henry  died,  the  Bianchi 
Lost  all  their  hope.     The  Neri,  now  in  power, 
Proclaim  to  exiles  pardon,  if  they  will 
Perform  due  penance. 
PRINCESS. 

And  will  the  haughty  Dante 
Brook    these    measures?     His    pride    grows 

with  his  years. 
His  pride  will  ne'er  wear  out  till  torn  by 

death. 

[Turning  to  PAGE.] 


DANTE  Act  IV 


Haste  thou  to  him,  and  say  we  wait  him  here. 

[Exit  PAGE.] 
JESTER. 

Why's  death  more  philosophical  than  Dante  ? 
PRINCESS. 
Say  on. 
JESTER. 

He  sings  of  Heaven  and  Hell,  while 

death 

Sends  thee  to  one  or  th'other. 
PRINCESS. 

Thou  art  starving, 

So  lean  thy  wit.     Go  get  thee  dinner,  fool. 
JESTER. 

*  Shall  I  then  feed  on  Dante's  pile  of  bones? 
PRINCESS. 

Beware!    Thou'lt    breed    contention    from 

those  bones. 
JESTER. 

I'd  rather  pick  a  bone  than  quarrel  with  thee. 
Crowned  fools  are  ever  enemies  to  dread. 
A  PAGE. 

Here  Dante  conies,  as  sober  as  a  night  owl. 
[Enter  DANTE,  walking  slowly.      COUR 
TIERS  bow  before  him  with  mock  cere 
mony.] 
*Vide  Appendix. 


Scene  II  DANTE  169 

JESTER.    [To  DANTE.] 
Has  hell's  breath  singed  thy  black  locks  to  a 

crisp  ? 
A  YOUTH. 

Purgatory's  diet  has  left  him  pale. 
A  PAGE. 

Good  Ser,  wilt  let  us  take  a  jaunt  with  thee 
When  wandering  into  the  nether  world? 
SECOND  PAGE. 

Mayhap   he'd  drop  thee   straight  into   the 

Styx. 
A  MAIDEN. 

Dante,  what  didst  thou  find  on  reaching  Hell? 
[DANTE  advances.      Thz  JESTER,  behind 
him,  imitates  his  walk.     Seeing  DINO, 
DANTE  starts  and  stands  still.    JESTER 
recedes  in  the  crowd."] 
[There  is  a  pause. ,] 

PRINCESS.     [Turning,  and  seeing  DANTE.] 
Ah,  Dante !    News — ay,  news  for  thee  from 

Florence ! 

She  offers  thee  the  freedom  of  her  gates; 
Recalls   the  exiles.     Read,   and   prove   my 

words. 

'[Gives  paper  to  DANTE.] 
There's  trivial  fine  to  pay,  and  but  slight 
penance. 


170  DANTE  'Act  IV, 

DANTE. 

To  pay  one  copper's  value  of  this  fine 
Would  mean  the  worth  of  conscience.  Fined? 

For  what? 

Through  weary  years  of  exile,  clean  I've  kept 
Mine  honor.    iYe,  who  brought  this  message, 

go— 

Tell  knaves  who  sent  it  here  that  not  till  Flor 
ence 

Wide  opens  gates  to  me  with  loyal  welcome, 
Acknowledging  the  gross  injustice  done, 
Will  she  within  her  walls  behold  me  more. 

PRINCESS. 

Bethink  thee  twice  before  thou  dost  refuse. 

DANTE. 

To  end  my  exile  with  disgraceful  act, 
With  penance,  fine  1     'Mid  pardoned  convicts 

stand 

On  Saint  John's  festival,  within  the  church, 
The  penitential  candle  in  my  hand! 
Have  rites  and  gifts  restore  my  townsman- 
ship  I 

*  Three  lustres  of  an  exile  borne,  should  I — 

*  I,  Dante  Allighieri,  so  return? 

;*  Does  innocence  deserve  crime's  punishment? 

*  Shall  I,  housemate  of  pure  philosophy, 


Scene  II  DANTE  171 

*  Be  offered  up  like  idle  school  boy  bound? 
The  time  was  when  I  swayed  the  people's 

voice : 

In  truth,  I  said:  *  If  I  here  sit,  who  stirs? 
If  forth  I  go,  who  stays  ? '     But  now  few 

care 

Whither  I  wend  my  steps.     Ingratitude 
Is    freezing    life-blood    in    my    townsmen's 
veins. 

DlNO. 

Does  hate,  then,  cancel  all  thy  love  for  Flor 
ence? 

DANTE. 

Nor  flood,  nor  flame  could  cancel  love  like 

mine ! 

The  City's  roughest  stones  are  jewels  to  me, 
And  though  my  bones  may  lie  in  exile's  grave, 
My  soul's  not  banished.  Florence  is  part  of 

me, 
And  I  of  her;  and  linked  our  fame  or  shame. 

DINO.     [Aside.} 
The  links,  methinks,  do  gape  a  bit  apart. 

[The  JESTER  has  been  pulling  the  PRIN 
CESS'S  sleeve.] 

*  Dante's  Epistle. 


172  DANTE  'ActlVt 

PRINCESS. 

Here  has  the  fool  been  plucking  at  my  sleeve : 
Speak  out  thy  message  unto  Florence,  fool! 
JESTER. 

Tell  her,  though  Dante  gives  in  name,  in 

nature 

Forgiving  is  he  not;  and  though  enduring, 
Through  fontal  vows,  through  exile  he  is 

never. 
[All  laugh.] 
PRINCESS. 

My  wonder  is  such  fool  can  win  applause 
Of  all  the  Court,  while  thou,  so  wise,  dost  fail. 
DANTE. 
Thy  wonder  dies,  didst  thou  but  know  this 

truth—f 

Similitude  of  taste  gives  friendship  birth. 
PRINCESS. 

Keep  to  thy  poet's  province.    Thou  art  not 

worth 
Thy  salt  as  jester. 

[DANTE  starts  to  retort.     GIOTTO  restrains 

him.] 
GIOTTO.     [A 'side  to  DANTE.] 

The  ass  sticks  out  of  lion's  hide  on  Dino, 
As  sting  of  bee  lurks  in  Giovanna's  honey. 
Up,  Dante,  up;  discomfit  all  thy  foes; 


Scene  II  DANTE  173 

Unleash  the  panting  dogs  of  thy  proud  mind, 
And  hound  these  idle  mockers  to  a  bog, 
Where  they  will  flounder  with  their  sophis 
tries. 
Though  thou  art  poet  banished,  still  thou'rt 

man. 
PRINCESS. 

Still  obdurate,  wise  Dante? 
GIOTTO. 
I  read  No 

In  every  line  and  wrinkle  on  his  brow. 
PRINCESS. 

Unbend  thy  dignity.    Accept  these  terms. 
DANTE. 

Here  is  my  answer. 

[He  tears  the  paper  to  shreds.] 
PRINCESS.     [To  DINO.] 

Then  thy  mission  ends. 
DINO. 

I  crave  a  private  hearing  with  our  poet. 
I  have  much  for  his  ear  alone. 
PRINCESS. 

Ye  can 

Withdraw  and  season  with  your  oil  and  vine 
gar 
This  salad  embassy. 

[ GIOTTO  lingers  a  little  apart  near  the  cur- 


174  DANTE  Act  IV 

tained  alcove,  into  which  DANTE  retires 
with  DINO.] 
DANTE. 

Out  with  the  motive  of  thy  coming — haste! 
DINO. 

Thou  hast  a   daughter,   Dante — young  and 

fair; 

Hast  thought  of  wedding  her? 
DANTE. 

I'd  rather  light 

Her  funeral  pyre  than  wedding  torch. 
DINO. 

She's  grown 

The  prettiest  wench  alive.    To  see  her  pass 
On  way  to  church,  invites  a  man  to  prayer. 
There  is  a  breath  of  spring  about  the  girl 
That  rouses  freshness  in  the  dullest  blood. 
Ay,  Dante;  by  my  troth,  I'd  wed  her  fairly. 
DANTE. 
Thou!     Thou! 

DINO. 

Give  her  to  me,  I'll  promise  thee 
Full  pardon?  swift  return  to  Florence. 
DANTE. 

Wretch! 
Out  of  my  sight — my  reach!   before  these 

hands, 
Spite  thy  white  hairs,  to  silence  strangle  thee, 


Scene  II  DANTE  175 

Decrepit  hypocrite! 

[DANTE  seizes  him.'] 
DlNO.     [Screeching.] 
Help!     He's  killing  me! 

[DANTE  thrusts  him  aside.] 
DANTE. 
Dog! 

[ GIOTTO  advances.] 
DlNO.      [Staggering.] 

I'm  mauled  because  I  offer  liberty  I 
I'm  maimed  for  offering  Bice  wedlock! 
DANTE.     [Starting  after  him.] 

Let  not  thy  unclean  lips  profane  a  name 
The  angels  hold  as  sacred.     Get  thee  gone. 

[DlNO  slinks  away.] 
GIOTTO.     [To  DANTE.] 

Of    marriage    spoke    that    tottering,    hoary 

beast! 
DANTE. 

Away  the  recollection  of  this  hour! 

Nor  in  the  days  to  come  shall  she  be  wed; 

Another  bridal  is  my  theme:  my  country's. 

*  Console  thyself,   Italia,   for  thy  spouse — 

*  Our   century's   joy,   thy   people's    glory — 

comes ! 

*  He  hastens  to  thy  nuptials.  Dry  thy  tears — 
*O,  beautiful  of  the  most  beautiful! 

*  Dante's  Epistle. 


176  DANTE  Act  IV 

Weave  wreaths  and  burnish  gems;  strew  ten 
der  flowers 

Adown  the  paths.  Bring  forth  the  sealed 
wine ; 

Spread  sumptuous  feast;  shout  out  the  bridal 
hymn ; 

Hang  up  gay  banners;  light  the  wedding 
torch, 

For  Liberty  will  come  to  be  thy  spouse ! 

[GiOTTO  motions  to  DANTE  to  be  silent, 
lest  he  be  overheard,  and  slowly  leads 
him  away.] 

DlNO. 

Unchanging  is  that  poet's  frozen  No. 
I  must  depart,  and  bid  ye  all,  farewelL 
PRINCESS. 

Accept  our  hospitality  to-night, 
Unless  too  gay  our  court  festivities, 
For  one  who,  Tuscan  bred,  may  be  austere* 
DlNO.     [Hurriedly.] 

I  am  a  Florentine,  but  not  a  Dante; 

Nay,  pressing  matters  urge  me  straightway 

home. 

[DiNo  salutes  the  PRINCESS  and  COM 
PANY,  assembles  his  retainers  and  as  he 
leaves  speaks  to  PANTE.] 


Scene  II  DANTE  177 

DlNO. 

Thy  insolence,  I  will  requite,  proud  poet. 

[Exit.'] 
PRINCESS. 
Now  for  our  pastimes.    Wilt  thou  join  us, 

Dante  ? 
DANTE. 

The  woes  of  bitter  heart  should  not  be  bared 
For  foes  to  scoff  at.    Silence  enfolds  them 

best. 

My  somber  presence  ill  befits  these  halls, 
Filled  with  delight  and  jests.     I  crave  in 
dulgence 
To  sit  apart. 

[DANTE  withdraws  behind,  the  arras.'] 
PRINCESS. 

We  will  not  bide  his  pleasure: 
So,  friends,  proceed  to  trip  the  jaunty  measure. 
JESTER.     [Singing] 

Let's  shake  the  walls  with  our  wild  jests  and 

laughter; 

In  youth  let's  lusty  be,  and  buried  after; 
So  hang  up  the  lance 
Live,  quaff,  sing  and  dance, 
And  love,  love,  love  till  the  crack  of  doom, 

O! 
[Dances.] 


178  DANTE  Act  IV 

PRINCESS. 
Well  jumped,  my  nimble  Jack.     There's  for 

thy  pains. 
[Gives  ring.] 

Now,  ladies,  shall  we  tread  a  lively  measure  ? 

[Music  begins,  and  PRINCESS  and  LADIES 

dance  with  COURTIERS.   Noise  is  heard 

outside.      The  music  breaks  vff  amid 

cries — ] 

Dan  Giovanni  to  me! 
Slay  the  villains,  slay! 

[The  court  rush  to  the  doors  and  windows.] 
NOBLES  AND  LADIES. 
A  rescue!     A  rescue!    The  Pilgrims  come! 

[Noise  continues  outside."] 
[UBERTO    rushes    in,    his    monk's    hood 
thrown   aside,   and  carrying   BEATRICE 
ALLIGHIERI  fainting  in  his  arms.] 
PRINCESS. 

What  means  this  turmoil? 
UBERTO. 

Treachery,  great  Princess ! 
We  claim  protection  for  our  little  band, 
And  justice  for  the  lawless  knaves  without 
Who  tried  to  abduct  this  gracious  lady, 
[Enter  FRANCESCA,  and  others.] 


Scene  II  DANTE  179 

PRINCESS. 

This  Court  shall  shelter  her,  ne'er  fear  I 
[Loud  cries  outside.] 

Ho,  there! 
Seize   every  man   who   lurks  without  these 

walls ! 

[Soldiers  who  have  come  in  from  the  left, 
rush  out  again  by  the  door  through  which 
UBERTO  DAL  COLLE  entered.'] 
DANTE.     [Entering  hurriedly.] 

I  heard  a  cry  of  Florentine  for  help. 
BICE.     [Recovering.'] 

O  father !  father  1 
DANTE. 
Beatrice  here! 

[They  embrace."] 
FRANCESCA. 

Yea,  take  her  to  thy  heart.     There  is  her 

haven. 

We  fled  from  Florence.    Evil  eyes  had  spied 
Her  loveliness.    Let  once  the  vulture  look 
Upon  the  dove,  she's  lost  unless  her  wings 
Waft  her  beyond  his  cruel  ken. 
DANTE. 

My  Bice! 

Great  love  did  move  thy  weakness  to  fare 
forth, 


i8o  DANTE  Act  IV 

Tempting  the  untried  terrors  of  the  road. 
Francesca !  friend  of  happier  days,  thrice  wel 
come! 
FRANCESCA. 

And  here's  a  loyal  knight  who  served  us  well. 

[She  indicates  her  brother  UBERTO.] 
DANTE.    [To  UBERTO.] 

The  stripling  has,   at  last,   then,   grown  to 

man; 

A  sound,  strong  branch,  upon  a  rotten  tree, 
Hath  put  forth  leaves. 
UBERTO. 

I'll  die  for  thee! 
DANTE. 

Uberto's  voice  has  still  the  old  ring  in  it. 
UBERTO. 

Uberto's  heart  has  still  the  old  love  in  it. 
DANTE. 

O  exile,  from  the  depths  of  Mara  wells 
Some  drops  of  sweetness  mingle  with  thy  gall ! 
How  womanly  my  Beatrice  grows — 
But  yesterday  she  seemed  a  timid  child. 
[To  FRANCESCA,  watching  BICE  greeted 

by  PRINCESS.] 
FRANCESCA. 

Our  Southern  sun  warms  swiftly  buds  to  blos 
som, 


Scene  II  DANTE  181 

[Great  commotion  outside.    Enter  soldiers 
and  Pilgrims,  with  DlNO  and  his  men, 
guarded.] 
PRINCESS. 

Thus  do  false  Florentines  betray  their  own ! 
Behold  a  guest,  scarce  parted  from  his  host, 
Swoops  down  upon  a  band  of  holy  pilgrims  1 
UBERTO. 

But  found  that  some  monks'  frocks  hide  coats 
of  mail. 

PRINCESS. 

Stand  forth,  and  let  thy  townsmen  see  thy 

face. 

[DlNO     is   dragged  forward   before   the 
Court.'] 

DANTE.     \_Springing  toward  him.] 
Thou  miserable  cur — skulking  in  shadow, 
To  do  the  deeds  that  sunshine  execrates. 
UBERTO.    [Drawing  sword  and  rushing  toward 

DINO.] 

So  thou,  the  lying  knave  hiding  in  darkness, 
Now,  in  the  light,  defend  thyself  to  death! 

[DlNO  shrinks  from  them.] 
PRINCESS. 

Hold,  Messers,  hold !  and  fight  without  this 
Court. 


DANTE  Act  IF 


[A  courtier  draws  UBERTO  back.] 
[DANTE    disarms    DINO    and   flings    him 
across  the  room.] 

DANTE. 

I'll  not  soil  hands  with  hoary  sinner's  blood, 
But  let  him  keep  that  mystic  bauble  life  — 
The  crystal  ball,  wherein  the  angels  watch 
Men's  good  and  evil  deeds.    These  moving 

scenes 
Will  soon  slip  from  this  aged  jackal's  hand. 

PRINCESS.    [Turning  to  DINO.] 
Lest  that  our  ire  at  this  treachery 
Send  thee  to  hell,  without  a  priest  or  shrift, 
Betake  thee  hence  in  haste,  Ser  Dino  —  Go  ! 
[In  the  lull,  DING'S  men  rush  him  out, 
causing  murmurs  in  the  Court,  but  the 
band  is  allowed  to  depart.] 

PRINCESS.    [To  Pilgrims.] 
Lay  every  staff  aside  to-night.     To-morrow 
Resume  your  saintly  pilgrimage,  refreshed, 
Leaving  with  us  your  gracious  benediction 
For  our  most  willing  hospitality. 

[Turning  to  FRANCESCA  and  BICE.] 
Fair  ladies,  you  are  welcome  to  our  Court, 
Long  may  you  tarry  to  delight  our  eyes. 
Anon  we  wait  you  at  the  festive  board. 


Scene  II  DANTE  183 

[She  salutes  ladies,  DANTE  and  UBERTO, 
then  goes  out  with  courtiers   and  pil 
grims.     DANTE  is  left  alone  with  BICE, 
FRANCESCA,  UBERTO  and  GIOTTO.] 
FRANCESCA. 

Now  for  thy  news.     Dante,  we  long  to  hear 
Of  all  thou  sawest  in  thy  varied  travels. 
BICE. 

Our  thoughts  have  pictured  thee  these  weary 

months 

In  many  places  and  in  varied  moods. 
O,  let  us  know  how  near  the  truth  we  drew. 
DANTE. 
Through  our  loved  land  I  wandered,  passed 

to  Paris; 

Sitting  on  straw,  and  drinking  'learning  in, 
I  heard  bold  lectures  from  the  sage  Sigier. 
Or,  rambling  near  the  Seine,  marked  the  sad 

house 

Where  Abelard  fair  Heloise  once  taught 
Latin  and  Love  together — beginning  life 
More  than  a  monk,  to  end  more  monk  than 

man, 

While  she  a  cloistered  lifetime  spent  to  rue 
A  few  wild  days  of  passioned  love  and  youth ; 
Then  sailed  to  white-cliffed  isle  where  Ed 
ward  reigns, — 


1 84  DANTE  'Act  IF 

Son  of  the  Longshanga  of  adventurous  fame, 
Tarried  in  London  by  the  lordly  Thames, 
Touched  Oxford's  hallowed  ground,  where 

once  of  yore 

Great  Alfred  widely  lit  that  little  spark 
To  fire  some  centuries  of  learning — saw 
The  state  of  University's  great  hall, 
Which  Durham's  will  did  well  endow,  and 

Baliol, 

Founded  by  Scottish  king;  I  saw  the  house 
Where  'dwell  the  Merton  scholars,  which  the 

wise 

Walter  de  Merton  once  from  Maiden  moved 
To  Oxford;  viewed  fair  lands  and  strong 

hewn  castles, 

The  gentle  hills,  deep  vales  and  yielding  soil, 
The  strong-limbed  race  that  fills  this  teeming 

isle, 
And  marked  the  blue  waves  beating  watch 

and  ward 

Around  this  sturdier  Venus  of  the  sea; 
Retraced  my  steps  with  longing  infinite, 
To  find  my  Florence  still  porte  close  to  me  I 
My  people — O,  what  have  I  done  to  thee  * 
That  thus  in  exile  I  must  weep  my  days? 
Since  then  life  is  to  me  but  empty  shell, 

*  Dante's  Epistle. 


Scene  II  DANTE  185 

From  which,  crab-like,  I've  crawled  to  lose 

myself 

In  ocean  of  a  sorrow  infinite — 
FRANCESCA. 

Rude  Fate,  with  grimmest  deeds  of  blood 
Hath  thrown  a  haze  of  red  on  our  horizon; 
But  think  thou  of  our  joyous  youth,  when 

Guido 

And  Marco  jested  with  la  Primavera 
!As  e'er  we  called  fair  Vanna,  and  of  glad 

days 

We  passed  in  Portinari's  scented  alleys. 
DANTE. 

Ah,  how  thy  words  recall  the  time  when 

youth 

Was  hot  upon  me,  and  life  full  of  love. 
To  some  Love  dancing  comes,  all  roseate 

crowned 

Holding  to  lips  his  nectar  sparkling  cup; 
To  me  he  tendered  poison-draught  to  drain. 
At  times  he  speeds  in  golden  sheen — a  Fay 
Strewing  man's  pathway  with  most  precious 

gifts, 

Anon  he  crawls  to  hearts  as  subtle  snake; 
There  fastening  fangs,  feeds  to  satiety. 
So  Love  stole  to  my  boyish  breast;  I  was 
No  infant  Hercules  to  strangle  it. 


1 86  DANTE  Act  IF 

GIOTTO.  {Seating  himself  near  DANTE.] 
As  ever,  joy  and  grief  divide  the  honors 
As  hosts  at  our  life's  feasts,  and  we  poor 

guests 

Still  vainly  scramble  for  the  higher  seats. 
DANTE. 

The  higher  seats  to-day  are  filled  with  rogues : 
Corso  enthroned  in  Florence — 
FRANCESCA. 

Nay,  he's  food 

For    worms — killed    while    trying    to    slay 
Uberto. 

DANTE. 

Dead!  and  all  his  vast  ambition  shrouded 
In  the  grave!     He  was  a  foe  most  bitter 
But  brave.    That  cancels  many  sins  in  men. 
So  round  the  whirling  wheels  of  Fate's  proud 

car 

Levelling  out  lives,  like  daisies  trodden  down 
'Neath    chargers'    hoof;    philosophy    'lone 

mounts 

To  driver's  seat,  but  drops  the  reins  in  haste 
When  death  cries  *  halt ' !     Ay,  all  obey  that 

voice 
Whose  tones  re-echo  through  all  Nature's 

gamut. 
The  proudest  pine  decays  and  drops  to  dust, 


Scene  II  DANTE  187 

As  doth  the  lowliest  weed.  So  fade  the  flow 
ers, 

So  cease  the  blithest  songs,  so  droop  strong 
wings 

That  clove  the  liquid  blue  of  yon  fair  skies. 

,Yet,  from  these  ends  arise  yet  fresher  lives. 

Spring's  teeming  soil  demands  last  Autumn's 
dead. 

So  Nature  turns  her  shrouds  to  swaddling 
bands 

And  lets  the  spirit  of  her  being  revive 

In  newer  songs,  and  sweeter  sights  and  scents, 

Bearing  them  through,  on  to  Eternity. 

And  so  man  dies !  his  dust  feeds  future  flow 
ers, 

While  golden  thoughts,  and  glowing  words 
and  deeds, 

Like  tapers  priests  have  blest  around  a  tomb, 

Illume  his  grave,  and  shed  a  radiance  o'er 

His  name's  short  day,  serving  to  light  the 
path 

Of  those  close  following.     Man  dies  to  live ! 

O,  death  from  life?  O,  life  from  death! 
The  mind 

Of  minds,  alone  this  mystery  reveals  I 

[DANTE  sits  absorbed,  his  head  resting  on 


DANTE  Act  IF 


his    hand,    then    takes    up    tablets    and 
writes.'] 

FRANCESCA.     [To  GIOTTO.] 
There  come  the  tablets  ;  this  mighty  poem 
Fills  me  with  awe  unspeakable;  if  impious 
What  vengeance  may  not  Heaven  deal  to 

Dante  1 
GIOTTO. 

Ne'er  fear,  posterity  will  glory  in  his  name. 
FRANCESCA. 

Mark  how  his  brow  is  knit;  how  strange  his 

smile  I 

To  this  abstraction  he  was  ever  prone. 
Once,  gone  to  watch  the  gayest  sight  in  Flor 

ence, 

Pedestrians,  singers,  gorgeous  cavaliers, 
Rose-strewing  children  in  a  glittering  throng, 
That    wound    its    shining    stream-like    way 

through  squares 

And  narrow  streets,  he  stood  within  a  shop 
Whose  only  wares  were  books.    As  the  pro 

cession 

Neared  to  the  door,  our  poet  spied  a  pamphlet 
Unread    by    him.    He    seized    it;    lost    in 

thought, 
Read  on,  nor  laid  it  from  his  hand  till  show 


Scene  II  DANTE  189 

Was  past  and  gone.     The  shouting  crowd, 

the  banners, 

The  splendid  train  of  horse  and  men,  unseen, 
Unheard,    unthought    of    by    the    dreamer 

Dante.* 

[They  converse  apart.'} 
[BEATRICE  and  UBERTO  come  'down  to 
gether.'] 

UBERTO. 

Didst  miss  me,  Bice? 

BICE. 

While  in  the  convent, 
I  missed  all  my  friends.     Life's  dull  without 

home  ties. 
UBERTO. 

Nor  hast  forgot  our  merry  games? 
BICE. 
No,  no. 

[  They  have  crossed  to  the  steps  leading  to 
the  garden,  and  pause  near  a  bench  on 
which   lie   balls   and   games.    UBERTO 
throws  her  a  ball."] 
UBERTO. 

Come,  catch  it,  Bice,  as  once  thou  didst. 

"Vide  Dante's  Life. 


190  DANTE  Act  IV 

[BiCE    lets    the    ball   pass    by.     It    rolls 

away  down  the  steps.] 
BICE. 

We  played  ball  at  the  convent — not  with  boys. 
UBERTO. 

I  am  now  a  man. 
BICE. 

Not  man  like  Giotto. 
UBERTO. 

I  would  not  be  as  grave  as  he.     I  love 

To   laugh   and   sing — lie   in   the   grass   and 

dream, 

Save  when  I  wear  a  sword  to  shield  my  lady. 
BICE. 

See  how  thy  ball  has  hopped  down  all  the 

steps ! 
UBERTO. 

Anon  I'll  seek  it.     Come  and  sit  awhile, 
And  talk  to  me  as  thou  didst  when  a  child. 
[BiCE    breaks   of   some   flowers   from    a 
rose-pot  and  holds  them  out  to  him.    He 
stretches  out  on  a  stone  bench  near  her, 
his  chin  resting  in  his  palms.'] 
BiCE. 

These  roses  for  a  wreath — 
UBERTO.     [Taking  some.} 
To  crown  thee,  Bice  ? 


Scene  II  DANTE  191 

There  was  a  flower  game  that  pleased  thee 

once, 
How  ran  the  rhyme?     'One  rose  for  each 

fair  cheek?' 
BlCE.     [Correcting.] 

1  For  each  soft  cheek  a  rose — ' 

[UBERTO  leans  forward  and  touches  a  rose 

to  each  of  her  cheeks. ] 
BlCE.     [Continuing.] 

*  Ten  wreaths  her  golden  hair — ' 

[UBERTO,  half-kneeling  on  the  bench,  puts 
on  her  head  the  wreath  they  have  been 
weaving.'] 

*  One  for  her  forehead  fair — ' 

[UBERTO  touches  a  rose  to  her  forehead.] 
BICE. 

*  And  two  her  lips  to  close — ' 

[As  BICE  says  the  last  line,  UBERTO 
touches  her  lips  with  a  rose,  and,  doing 
so,  kisses  her  on  the  lips.  BICE  starts  upt 
dropping  the  flowers,  and  moves  away. 
UBERTO,  seeing  her  troubled  look,  fol 
lows.] 

UBERTO.     [Calling  after  her.] 
Bice — Madonna  Bice! 

[He  overtakes  her  and  they  walk  away  in 
the  garden.] 


192  DANTE  'Act  IF 

GIOTTO.     [Looking  at  DANTE.] 

Dante's  a  dreamer,  and  we  but  shadows 
In  his  dreams !    This  angers  Gemma ; 
She  mourns  her  lot. 
FRANCESCA. 

The  great  must  have  their  foibles ; 
And  faults  in  husbands,  when  we  love,  turn 

virtues; 

And  patience  is  best  coral  to  cut  teeth  on; 
'Tis  the  Credo,  Ave  and  Paternoster 
Of  honest  woman's  household  life — with  love 
Walks  patience,  hand  in  hand,  till  sweet  is 

service 
That  else  would  grow  past  bearing  in  our 

lives. 

My  faith  was  orthodox  in  two  beliefs; 
My  God  and  Marco.    They  held  my  hell  and 

heaven. 

[Enter  BEPPO,  an  old  servant  of  DAL 
COLLE  ;  he  had  been  with  DING'S  retain 
ers.  He  is  evidently  drunk,  and  tries  to 
steal  quietly  into  the  hall,  but  stumbles 
over  a  bench.] 
GIOTTO.  [Starting  up.] 

Who's  this? 

BEPPO.     [Bowing  and  stumbling.] 
Beppo — good  Ser — only  poor  Beppo. 


Scene  II  DANTE  193 

FRANCESCA. 

He  was  my  father's  man — and  now  serves 
Dino. 

What  brings  thee? 
BEPPO. 

Requital  for  my  service. 

DANTE.     [Laying  aside  script,  joins  GIOTTO 
and  FRANCESCA.] 

What  services  ?    Doth  spy  for  Dino  ?    Speak ! 

Plots,  counter-plots  are  in  the  air.     Deceits 

Are  current  coin  to-day,  to  pay  all  scores. 

BEPPO. 

Whispers,  and  elbow  joggings,  and  sly  winks, 

Are  ammunition  wasted  on  myself. 

Dal  Colic's  hints  hit  but  a  hard  cuirass; 

[He  strikes  his  breast  in  a  drunken  man 
ner.] 

Have  I  not  heard  the  *  Cause ' 
[He  laughs  drunkenly.] 

these  fifteen  years — 
For  what?    Ay,  tell  me  that.    Thou  needst 

not  stare— t 
The  truth  will  out,  Ser  poet. 

DANTE.     [Aside  to  GIOTTO.] 
What  meaneth  he? 


194  DANTE  Act  IF 

GIOTTO.     [Aside  to  DANTE.] 

The  knave  knoweth  truly  more  than  suits  his 
masters. 

BEPPO. 

By  the  Rood  I've  waited,  moon  in,  moon  out. 
I'll  wait  no  more.  My  silence  should  be  paid, 
And  services. 

[Hiccoughs.] 

Can  they  count  it  my  fault 
That  plans  so  neatly  laid,  have  borne  no 
fruit? 

DANTE. 

What  scandal  lurks  beneath  these  words? 

Speak  out! 

Better  to  die  through  knowledge  than  to  live 
Half-dead  with  dread  suspicion.  Speak, 

knave! 

BEPPO.     [Looking  up    and   talking   at   them 

again.] 
I  need  reward  for  wedding  thee  to  Gemma  I 

[DANTE  starts.] 

If  watchful  spy,  I  had  not  played  for  them 
On  that  eventful  San  Giovanni's  Day 
When  Beatrice  died — * 

DANTE. 

Withhold  that  name! 


Scene  II  DANTE  195 

BEPPO. 

And  spread  reports  of  Corso's  cruelty, 
To  win  for  her  thy  pity.     She  was  apt. 
And  wept   and   fainted  when  we  told  her 

to — 
DANTE. 

Stay!     Give  me  time  to  grasp  this  villainy  1 
GIOTTO.     [To  BEPPO.] 

Thou  drunken  fool,  hie  hence.     Thy  speech 

betrays 

Too  brutal  scheme  for  honest  men  to  stom 
ach  I 
BEPPO. 

Dal  Colle's  dead,  and  Dino  swore  to-night 
He  needs  no  gray-beards  in  his  service  now. 
By  San  Michele,  I  have  earned  my  wage — 
GIOTTO. 

Then  go  to  them  who  made  thee  play  the 

spy. 

[He  pushes   BEPPO   off  through   the  en 
trance. ,] 

DANTE. 

The  sister  false,  like  brother — false  to  me ! 
Dal  Colle,  Corso,  Dino — ay — and  Gemma — 
Weaving  a  web  to  tangle  me  therein, 
To  wed  me  to  another  while  my  lady 


196  DANTE  Act  IV 

Still  was  mine.     And  all  these  years  I  nursed 
a  lie — 

A  living  lie — warm  sheltered  in  my  arms ! 
GIOTTO. 

This  tale  thou  must  not  take  so  much  to  heart. 

Madonna  Gemma's  love  for  thee  was  great, 

They  used  her  as  a  tool  to  serve  their  ends. 
FRANCESCA.     [Who  has  been  near  the  garden 
steps,  joins  DANTE.] 

Dante,  what  moves  thee  so? 
DANTE. 

A  lie — not  new 

To  thee ;  one  thou  hast  hidden  in  thy  heart 

Full  sixteen  years. 
FRANCESCA. 

A  lie?    What  lie? 
DANTE. 

Thou  wert 

In  league  with  Corso,  Dino  and  Dal  Colle, 

And    planned    to    force    me    into    wedding 

Gemma. 
FRANCESCA. 

O  Dante !    She  loved  thee ! 
DANTE. 

I  know  at  last 

That  Corso's  anger  was  but  feigned  to  rouse 

My  pity  till  I  wed  her. 


Scene  II  DANTE  197 

FRANCESCA. 

She  loved  theel 
DANTE. 

Her  cries,  her  swoons,  were  mummeries  well 

learnt. 
FRANCESCA. 

She  loved  thee,  Dante,  and  she  loves  thee 

still. 
DANTE. 

Thou  call'st  it  love.    No  love's  born  of  dis 
honor. 

She  is  my  children's  mother;  for  their  sakes 

No  public  scandal  shall  attack  her  name.  „ 

But  that  she  did  deceive  me,  fills  my  soul 

With  scorn  unutterable  for  herself. 

Henceforth  we  tread  our  ways  apart. 
FRANCESCA. 

O,  let  her  youthful  passion  plead  for  her! 

How  could  a  girl,  scarce  from  her  mother's 
side 

Define  the  boundaries  of  so-called  honor! 

She  loved! — and  strove  to  win  the  man  she 
loved, 

Though  subterfuge  might  mingle  with  her 
truth. 

Unconscious  ill  was  good,  the  clay  with  gold. 

Yet  it  behooves  thee,  being  great,  to  look 


198  DANTE  Act  IV 

With  gentleness  on  others'  sins.     Thy  heights 
Most  erring  souls  could  never  reach  1     For 
give! 

For  dear  love's  sake,  I  dare  not  harbor  wrath. 
[Pause.     GlOTTO,  who  has  been  watching 
to  see  if  BEPPO  has  left,  rejoins  them. 
BlCE  appears  from  garden.] 
BICE. 

Dear  father,  come  and  roam  this  beauteous 

garden. 

No  pleasure  is  joy  to  me,  unshared  by  thee. 
DANTE. 

Thou  art  most  duteous  daughter,  and  thy  love 
Illumines  many  shadowy  nooks  in  life. 
BICE. 

My  duty  twins  it  with  my  love.     I  pity 
Thy  foes  for  losing  joy  of  loving  Dante. 
DANTE. 

Thy  fondness  overleaps  the  truth,  my  Bice, 
As  when  a  prattling  babe  thou'dst  climb  my 

knee. 

And  with  big  kisses  vow  I  was  more  dear 
Than  doll  or  sugar  lamb.     My  pretty  bird, 
I  missed  thy  cheery  chirpings  round  my  chair, 
The  years  we  lent  thee  to  the  holy  sisters. 
BICE. 
So  said  Uberto — that  he  missed  me  much. 


Scene  II  DANTE  199 

DANTE.     [Startled.} 

And  thou  missed  him? 
BICE. 

I  missed  all  those  I  loved. 
DANTE. 

Thou  lovest,  then,  the  young  Dal  Colle? 
BICE. 

Why  should  I  not  ?     He  hath  a  loyal  heart, 

Is  handsome,  brave,  and  yet,  withal,  so  gentle. 
DANTE. 

Are  not  the  other  youths  as  v/ell  equipped? 
BICE. 

Ah,  none  can  equal  him.    So  high  he  stands 

In  my  esteem. 
DANTE. 

As  high  as  thou  boldest  me? 
BICE. 

As  high,  yet  not  the  same.    Thou  art  my 
father; 

I  owe  thee  life,  and  all  the  days  my  duty. 
DANTE. 

Dear  child,  Uberto  is  a  merry  friend. 

Methinks  he's  loyal,  but  his  youth  still  waits 

Upon  a  tested  manhood,  and  he's  son 

Of  one  who  was  my  bitter  enemy. 

My  daughter  could  ne'er  wed  Dal  Colic's 
child. 


200  DANTE  'Act  IF 

Sooner  I'd  have  thee  end  thy  days  a  nun. 

Nay,  nay.     Droop  not  thy  pretty  head.    All 
life 

Awaits  thee !     Thy  imperious  youth  may  win 

High  rank  as  well  as  honest  heart  for  spouse. 
BICE. 

A  clown,  o'er  black  bread  and  goat's  cheese 
can  gladden 

The  heart  of  wife  beloved,  more  than  a  knight 

Can  cheer  his  lady  o'er  red  Vernaccia, 

Should  she,  alas,  no  longer  worship  him. 
DANTE. 

Worship  is   for  the  saints — not  men,   dear 
child. 

What !  tears ! — tears  for  a  boy  thou'st  scarcely 
seen 

Since  childish  days?    Nay,  dry  thine  eyes, 

my  Bice. 

[DANTE  kisses  BICE  and  turns  to  FRAN- 
CESCA  and  GIOTTO.  They  cross  to  the 
alcove  and  pass  behind  the  arras.  FRAN- 
CESCA,  about  to  join  BICE,  sees  her 
brother  returning  from  the  garden.  She 
waves  her  hand  to  him,  pointing  to  BICE. 
Pause.] 

[BlCE  looks  slowly  around.  The  sun  is 
setting.'] 


Scene  II  DANTE  201 

BICE. 

Such  glorious  sunshine  close  within  my  reach, 

Such  heavy  shadows  close  about  me  fall, 

Such  joy  and  lightness  in  the  scented  air. 

Such  numbing  pain  and  darkness  in  my  heart ! 

The  sunset  of  my  love  is  nearing  me. 
UBERTO. 

Alone,  Madonna  Bice,  and  so  wistful?, 
BICE. 

Uberto,  wilt  grant  me  favor? 
UBERTO. 

Ay,  'tis  thine 

Ere  asked. 
BICE. 

'Tis  a  message  to  be  safe  delivered. 
UBERTO. 

Entrust  it  me.    Though  words  to  seal  my 
doom, 

They're  said. 
BICE. 

My  message  is  to  Heaven.  \ 
UBERTO. 

I'd  die 

To  take  it;  but,  through  sins,  my  soul  might 
slip 

Into  the  shades  of  nether  world  instead. 


202  DANTE  'Act  IV. 

BICE. 

There  is  no  need  to  bend  thy  life,  but  knee. 
And  pur  a  prayer  into  the  Eternal  Ear, 
To  our  Creator,  Judge,  and  Savior  pray, 
He  re-create,  and  judge  and  save  our  Flor 
ence, 

Pouring  His  balm  of  mercy  in  our  wounds 
Of  civil  discord,  till  the  olive  thrives, 
In  place  of  blood-stained  laurels;  and  pray, 

Uberto, 
For   strength  to   guide  thee  through  these 

troubled  times, 
And  add  a  prayer  for  me — • 

UBERTO. 

Thy  gentle  words, 

Madonna,  fall  upon  my  waiting  heart, 
As  seed  in  Springtime  from  the  sower's  hands, 
Falls   on   the    furrowed   ground;    from    my 

heart's  soul, 

Inspired  by  thy  virtues,  shall  spring  up 
A  living  crop  of  holy  thoughts  and  deeds, 
Due  to  thy  sowing. 

BICE. 

O,  may  the  angels'  hands 
Reap  close  thy  crop  for  God's  own  harvest 
ing! 


Scene  II  DANTE  203 

UBERTO. 

I'll  pray  for  Florence,  and  for  guilty  self; 
But  for  thy  own  pure  soul,  Madonna,  prayers 
Need  but  to  rise  as  sweetest  benedictions. 

BICE. 

Do  women  need  less  help  by  prayer  than  men? 
Have  we  no  thorns  to  tread  beneath  our  feet, 
Nor  fiery  paths  to  singe  our  fragile  garments  ? 

UBERTO. 

We   men   have   more   temptations   than   ye 

maids; 
We're  formed  of  coarser  clay. 

BICE. 

Yet  are  ye  formed 

In  God's  own  type,  and  must  ye  then  drag  that 
Such  sacred  semblance  down  into  the  dust? 
Let  likeness  of  a  God  lie  in  the  mire? 
Man  should  be  chaste  as  woman;  sin  is  sin. 
Thy  stronger  nature  should  uplift  thee  from 
The  swinish  pleasures  of  an  earthly  sty, 
From  sloth  and  gluttony,  lust,  heated  cups, 
And  all  the  miraged  joys  of  falle.i  minds. 
If  woman  strive  as  virgin,  wife  and  mother 
To  humbly  follow  Mary's  holy  life, 
Thou  hast  still  higher  type,  as  man,  in  Christ, 
To  preach  thee  perfect  love  of  purity. 


2O4  DANTE  'Act  IV\ 

UBERTO. 

If  worldly  men  would  think  such  thoughts  as 

thine, 

Living  them  out  in  simple,  daily  deeds, 
Life's  byways  would  smell  sweet  with  blos 
soms  dropt 
From  Heaven,  'stead  reeking  of  ill-savored 

weeds 
That  sprout  from  Hell.     Though   'tis  not 

meet  for  knight 

To  vaunt  his  merits  to  his  lady's  face, 
Yet  I  can  say  our  race  was  never  prone 
To  gross  delight  in  sottish  pleasuring. 

BICE. 

I  know  thee  pure,  and  call  thee,  therefore, 

friend; 
Thy  fault  is  rather  pride,  with  all  its  vices. 

UBERTO. 

Blue  blood  must  needs  run  proudly  through 
our  veins. 

Bicfl. 
And  why?    Thy  birth,  wealth,  talents — all 

are  gifts 
From  God.    As  such  they  should  be  humbly 

held. 
My  soul  in  secret  oft  hath  likened  thee 


Scene  II  DANTE  205 

To   truest  knight   of  brave   King  Arthur's 

Court, 
Who  sought  the  Holy  Grail.     Be  thou  like 

him, 

As  humble  and  as  pure,  and  let  thy  pride 
Live  only  in  good  deeds,  so  I  in  faith 
Can  call  thee  e'er  my  true  Sir  Galahad. 
UBERTO. 

Thine,  didst  thou  say?    Would  I  in  truth 

were  thine! 

O  Beatrice !    Well  thou  know'st  my  love. 
Bicfi. 

And  thou  wouldst  call  me  wife? 
UBERTO. 

If  thou  wilt  stoop 

To  earthly  bliss  of  wedlock  with  myself, 
Most  wisely  hast  thou  read  my  thoughts, 

sweet  Sybil. 

It  needs  no  skill  in  keen  Cumaean  craft 
To    sift   the    meaning    from   thy   garnered 

thoughts ; 

No  honest  man  doth  say  unto  pure  maid 
*  I  love  thee,*  save  he  wills  his  passion  change 
Her  life's  fresh  tints  to  richer,  deeper  dye, 
Her  virgin  freedom  narrowing  to  fit 
A  golden  circlet,  a  tiny  talisman 
That  holds  in  trifling  space  sweet  love  enow 


206  DANTE  'Act  IV. 

To  fill  a  world  with  Heaven's  own  joy  and 

peace. 
And  shall  my  love  not  win  response  from 

thine? 
BICE. 

No  blush  of  shame  dusks  cheek  to  own  my 

love, 

No  passion  pales  my  maiden  hue  to  feel  it; 
I  love  thee  without  thought  of  shame  or  pas 
sion. 
UBERTO. 

Dear  lips,  O,  say  those  words  of  life  again ! 
BICE. 

I  love  thee,  but  I  ne'er  can  be  thy  wife. 

UBERTO. 

O  Bice,  waft  me  not  upon  thy  love 
To  Heaven;  then  dash  me  down  to  Hell 
again ! 

BICE. 

No  hand  of  mine  can  ever  lie  in  thine. 
If  Fate  had  willed  to  me  a  happier  lot, 
As  I  do  love  thee,  I  had  been  thy  wife. 

UBERTO. 

Say  not  '  had ' ;  give  me  a  grain  of  hope ! 
Though  small  as  millet  seed  hid  in  thy  heart, 
'Twill  grow  till  it  can  fill  love's  granary. 


Scene  II  DANTE  207 

BICE. 

If  thou  light'st  love  with  hope,  thy  fuel's  soon 

spent; 

I  love  thee  freely  without  hope  or  fear, 
But,  after  God,  I  owe  my  father  life: 
He  wills  I  take  the  veil;  I  must  obey. 
But  all  my  prayers  and  thoughts  and  love  are 

thine: 

Havened  above  the  stars  at  Mary's  feet, 
There  lies  my  love  for  thee  eternally. 

UBERTO. 

I  can  not  throw  aside  a  heaven  on  earth 
For  others'  whims,  nor  sighing  let  thee  pass 
A  saintly  shadow  o'er  my  path,  while  life 
Hot  leaping  through  my  veins,  still  lends  a 

chance 
Of  winning  Beatrice  for  my  bride. 

[Sounds  of  rejoicing  heard  outside.  Enter 
soldiers,  courtiers,  ladies,  pages,  Gio- 
VANNA,  CAN  GRANDE  and  JESTER.] 

JESTER. 

Room  for  the  fool  who  fights  for  nughbors' 

quarrels ! 
GIOVANNA. 

Room  for  the  victor  proudly  coming  home  I 


2o8  DANTE  Act  IV 

[FRANCESCA    has    rejoined    BICE.      Gio- 
VANNA  turns  to  them,  taking  each  by  the 
hand.] 
GIOVANNA.    [To  CAN  GRANDE.] 

This  saintly  maid  is  Bice,  Dante's  daughter; 
This  sad-eyed  matron  Marco  Nerli's  widow. 
CAN  GRANDE. 

Most  welcome  to  our  court,  fair  Florentines. 
[GIOTTO    and    UBERTO    approach    CAN 
GRANDE  as  courtiers  surround  him  and 
ofer  congratulations.'] 
A  NOBLE.     [Aside  to  another.] 

Can  Grande's  sated  with  his  victories, 

But  his  erst  friend,  our  sombre  guest  and 

poet, 
Refrains    from    lauding    these    fine    martial 

feats. 
SECOND  NOBLE. 

Dante  had  hoped  the  Prince  could  push  to 

Rome, 
To  weld  with  Emperor  a  Caesar's  reign. 

CAN  GRANDE.     [To  GIOTTO.] 
A  likely  youth,  Uberto;  he  can  stay 
If  so  he  wills,  and  stretch  our  hospitality. 

[Looking  round.] 
!No  greetings  from  QUf  poet?    How  is  this? 


DANTE  209 


JESTER. 

He's  wedged  in  ice  he  says  awaits  in  Hell, 
So  frozen  e'en  hell's  fires  melt  him  not. 
[DANTE  has  come  from   the  alcove  and 

joined  BICE  and  FRANCESCA.] 
CAN  GRANDE.     [Loudly.} 
Durante  Allighieri  has  grown  dumb, 
No  word  of  welcome  greets  his  host's  return. 
DANTE. 
Why  waste  in  feuds,  O  Prince,  the  strength 

God  gives? 

'Tis  for  our  country's  general  weal — not 
For  fighting  quarrelsome  neighbors  when  they 

fail 

To  observe  some  trivial  courtesy  our  due. 
CAN  GRANDE. 

Hear  Dante  preaching  humbleness,  not  pride. 
Rank  has  its  dues,  these  should  be  fully  paid. 
DANTE. 

Proud  lives   of   daring  deeds  bespeak  our 

praise, 

But  we  are  apt  to  lavish  it  on  men 
Who  should  claim  none.    Why  must  we  bow 

the  knee 

To  some  old  noble's  son  because  he  bears 
His  father's  name,*  unless  with  noble  rank 
*Vide  Dante's  Life  and  Works. 


210  DANTE  Act  IV 

The  youth  inherits  virtues  of  his  sire? 
Noble  he's  not,  and  no  ancestral  coffers 
Should  be  deemed  his.     How  rarely  human 

worth 

Climbs  topmost  branch  of  genealogic  tree ! 
Nobility,  in  its  true  essence  lives 
Alone  in  virtue,  valor,  art  and  genius. 

JESTER. 

Our  Prince's  triumphs  are  not  valor  then? 

DANTE. 

Such  triumphs  may  yet  prove  our  land's  de 
feat, 
And   stifle   in   men's   souls   their   freedom's 

growth. 

While  foreign  powers  tread  upon  our  heels, 
Each  state  is  clamoring  for  supremacy. 
If  Italy  still  fears  to  stand  alone 
Amid  the  conclave  of  the  mighty  nations, 
Let  one  wise  ruler  gather  in  his  hands 
The  reins  of  government  and  be  our  head 
Till  we  have  learnt  to  blend  our  private  aims 
In  one  harmonious  whole.    Then  shall  we 

rear 
Our  crest  as  high  as  any  in  the  world  I 

CAN  GRANDE. 
As  Vicar-General  shall  I  then  not 


Scene  II  DANTE  211 

Speak  out  my  views,   enforcing  them  with 

sword  ? 
Keep  to  thy  dreams  of  Heaven  and  Hell,  but 

spare 
Thy  patrons  sermons  they  need  not!     My 

weal 

Demands  my  care  as  much  as  others'  woes. 
DANTE.     [Passionately. "\ 
Away  with   selfish   thoughts   of  thine   own 

good  I 

A  patriot  first  should  serve  his  country's  ends, 
Had  I  ten  lives  to  spend  I'd  lay  them  down 
At  my  beloved  country's  feet,  as  Mary 
Of  Magdala  anointed  feet  of  Christ. 
CAN  GRANDE.     [With  anger.} 
O,  thou  hast  chosen  well  thy  time  to  rail 
At  those  who  sit  in  power  while  thou  art  but 
An  exile  lacking  even  fighting  varlets; 
To  do  thy  bidding  on  thy  enemies ! 
DANTE. 

Thou  speakest  as  a  soldier,  the  prose  of  arms; 
My  power  needs  not  the  blood  of  war  for 

growth, 
'Tis  greater  than  clash  of  sword  and  breath 

of  kings. 

God's  finger  has  lain  lightly  on  my  lips. 
The  songs  I  sing,  the  sermons  that  I  preach 


DANTE  Act  IV 


Will   help    to   bind    my   bleeding   country's 

wounds 

And  shape  to  Unity  our  Italy. 
CAN  GRANDE. 
Would    Papal    power    approve    of    such    a 

scheme  ? 
DANTE. 

Let  Popes  look  to  our  souls;  but  purse  and 

sword 
Should  fill,  unfill,  rust,  shine,  without  their 

care. 
CAN  GRANDE. 

Be  cautious,  Dante,  for  thy  speech  begins 
To  touch  on  heresy. 
DANTE. 

In  faith,  Can  Grande, 
Rank  heresy  lurks  more  in  ears  than  tongue. 
CAN  GRANDE. 
Then  let's  hear  less  ;  but  come,  we'll  break  our 

fast. 

[A  feast  has  been  prepared.     It  is  dark 
and  torches  have  been  brought  in.     The 
court  ladles  have  robed  BICE  and  FRAN- 
CESCA  in  rich  mantles  and  put  wreaths 
on  their  heads.~\ 
DANTE. 
With  meals  to  silence  conscience,  ay,  how  oft 


Scene  II  DANTE  213 

A  stomach,  newly  filled,  will  prove  ally 
To  sins  the  self-indulgent  imp  within 
Had  futilely  suggested  while  we  starved. 
[The     courtiers     and    ladies     and     CAN 
GRANDE,  GIOVANNA  D'ANTIOCHIA  and 
guests  seat  themselves.     Music  is  played 
then.] 

SONG  SUNG  BY  SEVERAL  GUESTS 

Drink! 

To  Mars,  the  God  of  War  and  Blood  I 
High  to  him  in  ruby  flood ! 

To  the  brink 

Of  goblet  gold  with  sapphires  gemmed 
Fill !    Let  not  a  drop  escape. 
Offer  him  the  blood  of  grape. 

Mars!    We  drink! 

Drink! 

To  Venus,  fairest  Goddess  found, 
Braced  in  Beauty,  cestus-bound. 

Goblets  chink 

To  floating  hair  and  open  lids, 
To  marble  limbs  no  vestments  drape; 
Offer  her  the  blood  of  grape. 

Venus !     Drink  1 


214  DANTE  Act  IV 

Drink! 

To  Pluto,  for  our  passions'  fire 
Is  his,  and  that  mad  wine's  inspire. 

To  the  brink 

Fill  high  to  God  of  lowest  Hell  I 
By  fair  Proserpine's  rude  rape, 
Offer  him  the  fumes  of  grape. 
Pluto!     Drink! 

Drink! 

For  in  the  cup  lie  Fame  and  Wars 
Mightier  than  the  gift  of  Mars. 

Goblets  chink. 

Drain  Pluto's  fire  in  ruddy  flood, 
Or  let  the  fumes  with  fancy  shape 
A  Venus  from  the  amber  grape. 

Ever  Drink! 

CAN  GRANDE. 

A  lordly  song  well  sung.    I  drink  to  thee ! 
[Holds  up  his  cup  to  one  of  the  ladies.] 
Come,  Uberto,  leave  our  black-browed  poet. 
Hath  Boniface  drawn  up  new  code  of  morals? 
Come  join  our  court;  we  need  some  younger 

gallant. 
UBERTO. 

Great    Prince — my    word — my    time,     my 
thoughts,  my  life, 


Scene  II  DANTE  215 

Wait  but  on  Dante — Him  alone  I'll  serve — 
[DANTE  hearing,  grasps  UBERTO' s  hand.] 
CAN  GRANDE. 

Thy  gravity  but  ill  befits  thy  youth. 
But  take  thy  will :  we  force  no  guest  to  feast. 

[He  turns  to  the  courtiers  and  ladies  and 
joins  in  the  laughter  and  drinking.'} 

[GIOTTO,  FRANCESCA  and  BICE  have  left 
the  others;  as  they  join  DANTE,  UBERTO 
crosses  to  BICE.] 

UBERTO.     [To  BICE.] 

Has  love,  the  plummet  line  of  woman's  heart, 

Not  sounded  thine?     Has  patient  faith  no 
claim? 

Must  I  still  wait  without  a  hope  of  thee? 
BICE. 

Can  love  stretch  wings  while  round  us  fall 

Portentous  shadows  from  my  father's  grief? 
UBERTO. 

Love  lifts  all  shadows  from  this  earth; 

Its    strength,    its   brightness   emanate    from 
heaven. 

Love,  like  the  faithful  widow's  cruse  of  oil, 

But  spends  its  richness  to  renew  its  store; 

Increasing  power  of  giving  by  the  gift. 


216  DANTE  Act  IF 

From  all  the  wealth  of  love  stored  in  thy 
heart, 

0  Beatrice,  hast  thou  none  for  me? 
BICE. 

My  love  is  thine,  but  all  my  life's  my  father's. 
UBERTO. 

On  thy  knees,  go  plead  with  him,  my  Bice. 

Let  him  but  know  that  all  our  happiness 

Is  bound  up  in  each  other's  being.    His  love 

Will  ne'er  deny  our  suit. 
BICE. 

After  my  God, 

1  owe  my  father  duty.     What  he  wills, 
I  will. 

[FRANCESCA  joins  them.] 
UBERTO.     [Turning  to  FRANCESCA.] 
O  sister,  plead  for  me ! 

FRANCESCA.     [To  her  brother.} 

If  thou 

Dost  fail  to  move  her,  how  can  I? 
[Turning  to  BlCE.] 

Dear  Bice, 
Men   dare   not   boast   the   steadfastness   of 

women ; 

They  love  through  passion  where  we  love 
through  love. 


Scene  II  DANTE  217 

And   when  thou   findest   one   whose   manly 

strength 

But  serves  to  hold  his  passion  'neath  his  will, 
O,  honor  him,  the  length  of  all  thy  life! 
Now,  on  my  soul,  I  deem  Uberto  true, 
I  urge  thee  take  such  gift  as  sent  from  God. 
[BiCE    holds    out  her   hand   to  UBERTO. 
He  draws  her  slowly  into  his  arms  and 
embraces    her.     BICE    then    crosses    to 
DANTE,  and  sinks  at  his  feet.     DANTE 
lovingly    raises    her.     She    whispers    to 
him.    UBERTO  approaches  them.] 
DANTE. 
Uberto,  come.     Most  men  have  played  me 

false ; 

Some  of  thy  kindred  proved  mine  enemies. 
But  thou  wert  ever  true.     To  thee  I  trust 
My  Beatrice — a  jewel  beyond  all  price. 
Once   I  had  dreamt  the  blessed  maid  was 

shrined 

Sole  sovereign  virginal  in  poet's  heart, 
And  wished  that  my  fair  child  should  take 

the  veil, 

Communing  close  to  God,  'mid  holy  women, 
To  keep  her  white  cloth  free  from  life's  rough 

burrs. 
But  on  the  tossing  ocean  of  the  world, 


2i 8  DANTE  Act  IF 

I've  drifted  on  and  on  through  lonely  years; 

Still  praying  for  more  light,   still  learning 
lessons, 

And  dare  no  longer  mould  men's  lives  to  suit 

My  will.     So,  as  my  Bice's  heart  is  thine, 

Bless   that    dear   heart   with    all    thy   love, 

Uberto ! 
FRANCESCA. 

For  once  feuds  sleep.    Thy  friendship,  Dante, 
warms 

Like  wine  poured  by  some  Ganymede   for 

Gods. 
DANTE. 

Jove's  nectar  from  no  valley  wine  is  pressed 

But  from  the  grapes  that  scale  the  highest 
crags, 

And  mine  I  plucked  while  stumbling  in  the 
climb, 

And  lifting  gaze  above  this  earthy  mire. 

This  royal  roystering  jars  upon  my  ear. 

Young  Delia  Scala  revels  in  his  youth. 

So  draw  the  arras  shutting  out  the  sound 

Of  idle  jest  dropped  from  young  scoffing  lips. 
[DANTE  slowly' returns  to  the  alcove  and 
closes  the  arras.     Enter  pages  and  DEL 
EGATE  from  Bologna.     He  is  presented 
to  CAN  GRANDE.] 


Scene  II  DANTE  219 

CAN  GRANDE.    [  To  DELEGATE.] 
And  so  Giovanni  del  Virgilio  urges 
That  Dante  wear  Bologna's  poet's  crown? 
DELEGATE. 

'Tis  this  honor  that  we  tender  him. 
CAN  GRANDE. 
Where  roosts  our  owl  ?     Canst  lure  him  back 

to  us? 

[Addressing  JESTER.] 
JESTER.     [Pulling  back  the  arras.'] 
See  poet  wrapt,  oblivious  of  the  world ! 

[DANTE  is  sitting  in  the  casement  writing. 
The  DELEGATE  and  GIOTTO  approach 
him.] 

DELEGATE. 

Greeting  to  thee,  great  Dante  Allighieri, 
From  thy  friend  Giovanni  del  Virgijio. 
[Hands  papers  to  DANTE.    DANTE  rises, 

takes  them,  and  glances  at  them.] 
DANTE.     [Coming  down  from  the  alcove.] 
For  the  kindly  purport  of  thy  coming 
I  thank  thee.     O,  Bologna's  proffered  crown 
Is  glorious  triumph  for  a  poet's  heart. 
But  'tis  ungrateful  Florence  that  should  tend* 
A  laurel  wreath  to  me,  her  son.    Again 
I  thank  thee,  and  the  Bolognese  who  sought 
*  Dante's  Epistle. 


22O  DANTE  'Act  IV 

To  crown  an  exiled  and  a  saddened  poet. 
tWhen  newer  kingdoms  in  my  cantos  live,* 
And  denizens  of  starry  spheres  appear, 
Then  garland  me  with  ivy  and  with  laurel 
That  grows  within  the  walls  of  well-loved 
Florence. 

DELEGATE. 

I  fear  those  plants  have  never  taken  root. 
Dante,  we  honor  thee,  whom  Florence  scorns. 
May  other  cities'  tribute  heal  the  wounds 
The  ungrateful  Tuscan  town  has  given  thee. 

CAN  GRANDE. 

Bethink  thee,  Dante,  twice,  ere  thou  refuse 
Bologna's  crown. 

DANTE. 

I  need  no  crown,  save  one: 
Death's  pall  soon  covers  passion,  pride  and 

joy- 
In  deep  dug  grave  they  sink  to  nothingness. 

So  shovel  on  the  Lethean  earth — on  all 
Save  love,   for  that's  entwined  around  our 

souls 

And  wings  our  wistful  spirits  unto  Heaven. 
DELEGATE. 

With  hearty  sorrow  we  must  wend  our  way, 
Bearing  thy  message  back  to  fair  Bologna. 
*  Dante's  Epistle. 


Scene  II  DANTE  221 

0  that  our  noble  town  had  given  thee  birth, 
So  thou  hadst  worn  the  crown  she  offers  thee ! 

DANTE. 
Though  Florence  caused  me  pain,  I  would  not 

change 
My  birthright;  though  her  stones,  like  heated 

ploughshares 
Burnt  flesh  from  off  my  bones,  I'd  love  her 

still. 
Nature  and  art  have   crowned  her   queen 

among 

The  cities  of  our  land.    The  day  will  dawn 
When    all   her  bitterness   toward  me   shall 

vanish : 
'Tis  but   a   breath,   blown  by  the   people's 

mouth, 

Who  suck  in  error  with  their  mother's  milk. 
A  purer  air  must  fill  their  lungs  ere  long; 
Great  drafts  of  freedom  will  transfigure  Flor 
ence. 

Her  hand  outstretched,  she'll  clasp  all  Italy. 
By  then  my  winding  sheet  will  be  white  dust. 
But,  if  my  spirit  can  commune  with  earth, 
I'll  know  the  tardy  honors  tendered  me. 
Go  tell  the  kindly  Bolognese  my  message: 

1  bid  ye  for  all  time,  Farewell ! 

Farewell! 


222  DANTE  Act  IV 

DELEGATE. 
Farewell ! 

[DANTE  turns  aside.] 
CAN  GRANDE.     [To  DELEGATE.] 

Dreaming  o'er  what  he  writes,  our  Dante 

spurns 

The  gifts  Fate  offers  him.     But  let  us  tend 
To  thee  our  Court's  glad  hospitality. 

[The  DELEGATE  is  presented  to  GIOVANNA 
and  is  served  with  wine.  CAN  GRANDE 
joins  them  as  the  tables  are  taken  out  and 
the  ladies  and  courtiers  begin  to  disperse.] 

CAN    GRANDE.     [Holding   out   his   hand   to 

DANTE.] 
Thou    mighty   man — I    hate    thy    scathing 

words, 

But  I  do  love  thy  wondrous  lore.     Forgive 
My  hasty  speech. 
DANTE. 

We  see  with  different  eyes. 
My  heart  still  beats  for  thee,  though  sharp 

my  tongue; 

But  in  the  days  to  come  I  must  live  hence. 
The  peace  of  the  Pineta  lures  me  there. 
My  message  to  the  world  needs  calmer  hours 
Than  thy  gay  court  affords,  Can  Grande. 


Scene  II  DANTE  223 

GlOVANNA. 

Forget 

Thy  script  to-night — > 
JESTER. 

How  can  he  when  he  lives 
For  that  alone  ?    What  did'st  thou  find,  good 

Ser, 

In  thy  strange  wanderings  entering  Hell? 
DANTE. 
A    gate    upon  whose  portals    were    these 

words :  * 

Through  me  ye  pass  unto  the  doleful  city, 
Through  me  ye  enter  to  eternal  woe, 
Through  me  ye  meet  the  people  damned  and 

lost. 

'Twas  Justice  moved  my  ancient  fashioner, 
And  Power  divine  created  me  of  yore, 
Wisdom  supreme  and  the  first  spirit  of  Love 
Before  I  was :  naught  did  exist  but  what 
Eternal  was;  and  I  eternal  stand. 
All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here. 
[The  courtiers  and  ladies  murmur.'] 
GlOVANNA. 

Unless  I  hear  gay  strains  to-night,  no  sleep 
Would  close  my   eyes,   since  hearing  these 

drear  words. 
*  Divina  Comedia. 


224  DANTE  'Act IV 

Come,  friends,  let's  to  the  garden,  there  the 

moon 
Will  send  us  pleasant  fancies  ere  we  part. 

[The  JESTER  starts  singing  and  dancing, 
as  the  Court,  catching  the  refrain,  passes 
out  with  CAN  GRANDE  and  DELEGATE. 
A  girl  pelts  DANTE  with  roses  and  runs 
away  laughing.  GIOTTO  and  FRAN- 
CESCA  are  urged  by  DANTE  to  leave  him. 
Reluctantly,  they  go;  last  of  all,  UBERTO 
and  BICE,  who  embraces  her  father.] 

BICE. 

Uncrowned  by  Florence,  still  thou  art  a  king, 
Thy  kingdom  widening  over  all  the  earth. 
I  hail  thee  such,  dear  father;  wear  thy  crown ! 

[She  takes  the  wreath  from  her  head  and 
puts  it  on  DANTE'S.  The  torches  are 
carried  out:  DANTE  stands  meditating 
in  the  moonlight.'] 


CURTAIN 


ACT    IV:    Scene  III 

Room  in  the  Palace  of  Guldo  Novella  di 
Polenta  at  Ravenna. 

Enter  Giotto,  Jacopo  and  Pietro. 

GIOTTO. 

Would  I  could  veil  to-day  this  startling  truth, 
But  still  it  stares  me  naked  in  the  face. 
JACOPO. 

My  father  seems  to  fail  through  lack  of  spirit : 

This  ending  of  Venetian  embassy 

Much  chafed  him.     Guido  haply  thought  to 

win 

Ally  thereby,  and  check  the  grasping  Guelphs, 
Whose  growing  power  he  fears,  though  his 

their  party. 

But,  dreading  Papal  wrath,  Venezia  spurned 
The  embassy,  refused  to  see  my  father. 
This  galled  his  haughty  soul.     In  vain  our 

host 

Flings  free  his  favors  in  our  midst — in  vain 
Uplifts  Pietro  and  myself.     Alas! 
Ravenna's  ruler  fails  to  ease  the  pain 
That  gnaws  at  Dante's  heart. 
225 


226  DANTE  T Act  IV 

PIETRO. 

Alone  his  poem 

So  wondrously  completed,  comforts  him. 
But  now  he  mourns  the  loss  of  thirteen  can 
tos: 

This  mars  the  triumph  of  his  mighty  work. 
GIOTTO. 

'Tis  strange  he  fails  to  find  what  his  hands 

hid. 

JACOPO. 

The  past  years'  storms  have  clouded  memory. 
[Enter  FRANCESCA.] 

GIOTTO. 

Good  Cesca,  how  doth  Dante  fare  this  morn? 
FRANCESCA. 

He  comes  with  Bice  from  the  balcony. 

[Enter  DANTE  leaning  on  BICE'S  arm.] 
GIOTTO.     [Greeting  him.'] 

Thou'rt  pale,  dear  friend,  and  cold. 
BICE. 

Too  long  he  lingered, 

Watching  the  upward  flight  of  circling  birds. 
GIOTTO. 

These  early  Autumn  breezes  blow  thee  harm. 
DANTE. 

The    fault's    not    in    the    winds — but    me; 
strength  fails; 


Scene  III  DANTE  227 

This  golden  month  has  no  more  golden  mean. 

Dawns  grow  to  morns,  and  they  to  noons, 
and  dusks 

To  dawns  again;  while  creeping  centuries 

Mark  slowly  time  upon  the  eternal  dial, 

That  lasts  till  sets  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

As  sick  men  preach  to  friends  in  robust  health 

That  drafts  and  damps  bring  aches  and  fev 
ered  beds, 

Knowing    they   venture   naught    but    tested 
truths, 

Yet  see  their  wise  words  fall  on  heedless  ears. 

So  I,  who  am  bereft  of  home  and  honor, 

Would   others  warn  that  earthly   joys   are 
shadows, 

But  know  I'd  preach  in  vain,  to  listless  crowds, 

Meeting  with  same  success  as  sick  men's  ser 
mons. 
GIOTTO. 

This  sick  man's  sermon  we'll  most  gladly 
hear; 

But  tell  me,  Dante,  how  to  serve  thee  best? 
DANTE. 

Fling  wide  the  casement:   let  the  sunshine  in 

Until  the  last  rays  fade  to  sombre  night. 

So  sets  my  sun;  so  nears  my  night,  and  then 

All  ends. 


228  DANTE  'Act  IV 

BICE.     [Giving  DANTE  a  cup.] 

Dear  father,  this  will  give  thee  strength. 
DANTE. 

Ay,  strength  to  meet  the  last  of  all  our  foes. 

He  never  fails  his  tryst  to  keep,  well  knowing 

In  every  struggle  he  still  wins  the  day. 

But  One  alone  has  striven  to  victory; 

The  Blessed  Master  conquered  Death  for  aye. 

Love  pointeth  to  the  bleeding  Christ  on  cross, 

The  patient,  waiting  Christ  who  calls  to  us 

Though  our  weak  hearts  like  angry  crowds 
cry  out: 

'O  crucify  Him — crucify  the  Good; 

We  want  Barabbas;  want  our  evil  deeds! ' 

Why    weeping,     Cesca?     Hush,     our    lady 
listens ; 

I  see  her  standing  in  the  evening  light — 

Saint,  halo-crowned.     O  Beatrice,  speak! 
BICE. 

I'm  here,  dear  father. 
FRANCESCA. 

Nay,  not  thee  he  means, 

But  she — the  Beatrice  of  his  youth. 
DANTE. 

Madonna,  at  thy  feet  I  lay  my  love : 

O,  glean  it  to  thee  close,  most  saintly  one, 

Within  thy  bosom  let  it  lie, 


Scene  III  DANTE  229 

Like  scented  flower,  a  moment,  next  thy  heart; 
Or  tread  it  low,  beneath  thy  heel  like  dust. 
'Tis  all  thy  own  to  prize  or  scorn,  sweet  Bice. 
Didst  thou  not  pray  me  to  shun  pride  ?    Alas ! 
This  pride  has  proved  thorn  in  my  flesh 

through  life. 

O  Beatrice!  silent  still?    Thy  lips 
Are  smiling.     Hush!    At  last  she  speaks. 
[DANTE  looks  upward  as  at  a  vision.] 
BICE.     [Weeping.] 

0  father,  father! 

DANTE.     [Half-rising  from  his  chair.] 
My  cantos!     Madonna — • 

1  follow  thee. 

[Rises.     BICE  tries  to  restrain  him.] 
GIOTTO. 

He  sees  a  vision :  stay ! 
[Holds  BICE  back.    DANTE  walks  toward 

the  wall.] 
DANTE.     [Very  slowly.] 

Behind  the  panel — yea,  thou  seest  all. 

[He  reaches  the  wall  and  touches  a  panel, 

which  opens.] 
DANTE. 

O,  how  thy  love  protects  me,  Beatrice  I 
[He  takes  the  lost  manuscript  from  the 
panel.] 


230  DANTE  Act  IV 

GIOTTO. 

The  missing  cantos ! 
BICE. 

A  miracle — yea, 
A  miracle  from  Heaven ! 
DANTE.     [Turning  and  gazing  upward.} 

Madonna, 
Thou  givest  me  my  very  light  of  life! 

[Pause.} 

Thou  f adest  from  my  vision !     Beatrice ! 
[JACOPO  and  PIETRO  assist  DANTE  to  a 

chair.} 
BICE. 

Father,  rest. 
DANTE. 

Gone — the  angels  have  wafted  her 
To  Heaven  again. 
BICE. 

Praise  God,  O  Father,  that  He  hath  vouch 
safed 

This  grace  to  thee.    O,  let  my  arms  bind  thee 
To  earth. 
DANTE. 

Thou  holdest  but  the  fragile  shell 
Of  my  sad  soul. 

[Touching  the  manuscript.} 

This  casing  of  my  thoughts 


Scene  III  DANTE  231 

Reveals  an  inner  light;  take  it,  my  children; 

Bequeath  it  to  the  world  when  I  am  gone. 
[Enter  GUIDO  NOVELLO  and  a  priest.} 
GuiDO. 

We  come  to  ask  how  now  our  Dante  fares. 
DANTE. 

He  fares  now  well,  since  loosed  the  silver 
cords, 

And  broken  golden  bowl.       Now  shall  the 
dust 

Return  to  dust,  the  spirit  to  our  God. 
GUIDO. 

Our  days  are  in  His  hands;  we'll  pray  He 
spare 

Thy  life  to  us  for  still  some  length  of  years. 

Dante,  I  bring  thee  news. 
DANTE. 

I,  too,  have  news. 
GUIDO. 

An  embassy  from  Rome  awaiteth  thee. 
DANTE. 

An  embassy  from  Heaven  awaits  my  soul. 

Through  all  my  life  I  ever  humbly  strove 

To  mingle  God  with  daily  acts.     Why  shrink 

The  last  act  of  my  life  to  share  with  God? 

Admit  my  friends. 


232  DANTE  Act  IV 

GUIDO.     [Aside  to  PIETRO.] 

This  whispering  of  Rome 
Low  in  Ravenna's  ears,  means  mischief, 

Pietro. 
[Enter  CARDINAL,  attendants  and  UBERTO. 

DANTE  rises  to  meet  them.] 
CARDINAL. 

Messer  Dante,  the  holy  Church  salutes  thee. 
DANTE. 

And  I,  as  when  at  Rome,  salute  the  Church. 
[UBERTO,  having  greeted  FRANCESCA  and 

BICE,  draws  near  to  DANTE.] 
UBERTO.     [Aside  to  DANTE.] 

I  hear  this  envoy  from  the  Pope  means  ill. 
DANTE. 
E'en  a  sick  lion,  when  roused,  can  match  a 

fox. 
[The  CARDINAL,  having  greeted  GIOTTO, 

joins  DANTE.] 
CARDINAL. 
I    fear  thy   labors    have    outstripped    thy 

strength. 
We  hear  thy  poem  on  Heaven  and  Hell  is 

finished. 

May  the  Saints  grant  it  be  not  impious. 
DANTE. 
Tis  not  the  Saints,  but  men  may  deem  it  so. 


Scene  III  DANTE  233 

GUIDO. 

Most  wondrous  are  the  pictures  Dante  draws ; 
He  mingles  poetry,  philosophy, 
Religious  thoughts  and  history  in  one  theme. 
I  feel  most  honored  here  to  house  such  guest. 

GIOTTO. 

Yea,  this  Court  harbors  now,  Lord  Cardinal, 

Italia's  most  illustrious  man. 
CARDINAL. 

God  grant 

His  Holiness  concedes  this,  too,  good  Giotto. 

DANTE. 
The  triple  crown  oft  menaces  the  laurel. 

CARDINAL. 

But  not  when  grown  on  consecrated  ground ! 
The  Holy  Father  sanctions  art  and  learning; 
The  city  swears  by  her  proud  self  these  days. 
We  boast  the  gayest  singers,  lightest  dancers 
In  Rome.  Our  poets  quaff  the  sparkling 

wine, 

On  every  pinnacle  of  mirtK.     Without 
Some  jocund  rhymes  salute  the  ears,   -and, 

mingling 

With  bells  of  mules  and  cries  of  trafficking, 
And  strangers  swarming,  add  their  welcome 

coin. 


234  DANTE  'Act  IVi 

DANTE. 

Ay,  welcome  to  the  Church.     I  recollect 
The  year  Pope  Boniface  most  wisely  ordered 
The  Jubilee;  how  pilgrims  flocked  to  Rome, 
And  day  and  night  they  raked  gold  treasures 

in; 
These  eyes  have  seen  the  priests  with  rakes  in 

hand; 

And  hundreds  slept  in  streets,,  content  to  lie 
Within  your  walls.    And  now,.  Lord  Car 
dinal, 
Prithee,  proceed — unfold  thy  mission  here. 

CARDINAL. 

I  come  because  His  Holiness,  the  Pope 

Desires  to  satisfy  himself  thy  work 

Is  not  inimical  to  all  the  teachings 

Of    Mother    Church.     I    prithee,    Messer 

'Dante, 

Commit  this  manuscript  unto  my  care, 
So,  by  perusal,  I  can  straight  refute 
The  slanders  on  it  spreading  through  our 
land. 

DANTE. 

Truth  needs  no  refutation. 

[Touches  the  manuscript.} 
This  is  truth. 


Scene  III  DANTE  235 

CARDINAL.      {Leaning   over  and  -placing  his 

hand  on  the  manuscript. "\ 
Then  let  us  test  it,  Messer  Allighieri. 
DANTE.     [Powerfully.} 
Hold! 
[Pause.} 

Rome's  greedy  hand  may  rake  in  gold, 
But  not  this  treasure  of  my  soul.     Beware  I 
CARDINAL. 
Thy  blasphemies  may  damn  thy  poem  and 

soul. 
DANTE. 

When  palaces  of  Popes  lie  low  in  ruin 
.When  world-famed  kings  are  dust,  and  all 

this  power 

A  dream  of  by-gone  days,  this  monument 
Shall  firmly  stand  as  now  on  rock  of  truth. 
CARDINAL. 

Beware !     Anathema  may  be  its  fate. 

[BlCE  starts  and  cries  out.} 
DANTE.. 

Before  the  frightened  eyes  of  slaves  and  chil 
dren 

Shake  out  thy  spectre  of  anathema, 
And  flay  them  with  the  iron  rod  of  dogma. 
But   free  men  need  not   cower  before   the 
Church. 


236  DANTE  'Act  IF 

They  reverence  piety  in  priest  or  layman. 
But  Catholics  should  bend  to  Christ  'fore 

Rome. 
CARDINAL. 

The  fagots  in  the  market  place  hiss  hot 
For  thee  and  thy  pernicious  work,  and  hell 
Awaits  thee  joyfully,  thou  most  accurst — 
DANTE. 

At  last  thy^mask  is  off  I 
CARDINAL. 

Thou  heretic! 
From   Rome  the  Holy  Father'll   deal  with 

thee. 

[Exit  with  attendants.] 
DANTE.     [As  CARDINAL  leaves.] 
The  Holy  Father  from  Heaven  will  deal  with 

thee. 

O   Rome,  is  this  thy  mission,  to  create 
St.  Peter's  chair  for  knaves  to  desecrate? 
Where  all  the  saints  once  crowned  upon  that 

seat? 
Dead — martyred  by  these  vicious  men  who 

wrest 
The  papal  power   from   every  hand  that's 

clean. 

How  long,  how  long,  Jerusalem,  shall  sin 
Usurp  thy  purity?     O  Italy, 


Scene  III  DANTE  237 

Awake  to  brighter  aims  of  broader  purpose. 
Then  let  thy  mem'ry  note  my  latest  breath 
Declares  death  hath  no  sting,  no  torment,  hell 
Keener  than  earth's  injustice,  since  to  live 
Misunderstood,  condemned  by  those  we  love, 
Is  death  and  hell  together — Give  me  air! 

[Sinks  back  In  chair.] 
How  dark  it  grows. 
BICE. 

O  God,  have  mercy  on  him ! 
DANTE.     [Rousing  himself.] 

Why  fear  the  shears  that  snip  life's  snarled 

thread 

When  it  but  signifies  the  end  of  pain? 
In  gentle  guise,  come  to  me,  Death,  at  last; 
Shut  out  from  strained  lids  the  world's  harsh 

views ; 
Seal  up  the  jarred  ear  from  earth's  rude 

sounds ; 
Stay  grief's  grim  accents  on  the  trembling 

Up's; 

Steal  pain  from  touch ;  take  tired  exile  home ; 
O  thou  great  herald  of  eternal  rest! 
GUIDO. 

His  end  is  near. 
GIOTTO. 

The  century's  light  burns  low. 


DANTE  Act  IV 


DANTE.     [Gazing  upward.] 

Come  closer,  shades.    What,  do  ye  fly  my 

touch  ? 

Hath  woe  not  purified  my  flesh  enow? 
Must  my  poor  soul,  still  sighing,  sit  within 
The  adamantine  prison  of  the  flesh? 
Hath  it  not  even  reached  an  outer  door 
Where  through  some  blessed  chink  it  spies 

beyond 

Its  kin  at  rest,  care-free,  in  sweet  Elysium? 
Fed  on  the  tree  of  life  in  Paradise, 
When  perfect  grown,  must  these  new  spirits 

swing 

The  incense  of  their  love  and  praise  alone 
In  Heaven's  domes?    Shall  not  some  holy 

breath 

Be  wafted  down  from  them  to  earth  again, 
Sweetening  our  lives  and  cleansing  us  from 

sin, 

And  so  let  those  above  by  mystic  tie 
Be  linked  to  what  they  were  in  living  men. 

[Pause.] 

DANTE.     [Resuming.] 
O  Beatrice,  such  pure  soul  as  thine 
Needs  lower  stoop  than  most,  to  reach  us 

here. 
Madonna,  at  thy  feet  I  lay  my  love; 


Scene  III  DANTE  239 

O,  lift  it  to  thy  bosom,  let  it  lie, 

Like  scented  blossom,  lightly,  near  thy  heart. 

Still  silent,  blessed  one?    Thine  eyes  speak 

only; 
Thou  standest  near  the  .Church  enthroned  in 

glory, 
Beside   the    Rose   of   Heaven,    the   iVirgin 

Mother, 

Who  shineth,  clothed  in  light  eternally. 
Even  thou — even  thou — art  Beatrice  I 
Stretch  out  thy  holy  hands ;  help  me  to  thee ! 

[Rising.] 

O  let  my  faltering  tongue  find  power 
So  that  a  spark  of  all  thy  glory  trail 
Resplendent  through  all  centuries  to  come, 
Lit  by  the  love  that  moves  the  sun  and  stars, 
That    gives    me    God    and    Florence — Bea 
trice — 
[He  dies.] 


CURTAIN 


"  Two  women's  angry  looks 
First  lit  this  coal  of  enmity  betwixt 
Ye  twain.    When  Vieri  at  the  feast,  in  jest, 
Begged  that  some  friendly  soul  should  sit  be 
tween 

Thy  lady  and  her  neighbor  at  the  board " 

[Act  /.] 

At  a  feast,  Vieri  del  Cerchi,  observing  two 
ladies  exchange  unfriendly  looks,  laughingly 
said,  "  As  these  two  dames  do  not  agree,  it  will 
be  best  to  put  some  friendly  soul  between 
them."  Dona  Donati  instantly  sprang  up,  pale 
with  rage,  and  was  leaving  the  table,  when 
Vieri  rose,  begged  her  pardon,  and  prayed  she 
would  be  seated,  laying  his  hand  upon  her  sleeve 
as  he  spoke.  But  the  angry  dame  shook  it  off, 
proclaiming  loudly  that  it  had  all  been  a  planned 
insult. 

Vieri,  furious,  replied  hotly;  upon  which 
Donati  drew  his  sword,  vowing  his  wife  was 
insulted.  Blows  followed,  and  the  feast  ended 
in  a  general  fray, 

241 


242  APPENDIX 

"Nay,  truths,  proud  painter;  didst  not  make 

thee  great 
With  one  round  O?" 

[Act  IV:  Scene  II.] 

Giotto  di  Bondone  (1276-1336),  founder  of 
modern  Italian  art,  was  a  shepherd  boy,  but 
made  rapid  progress  under  his  master,  Cima- 
bue.  His  fame  soon  spread,  and  Pope  Bene 
dict  selit  one  of  his  courtiers  into  Tuscany  to 
see  what  sort  of  a  man  he  was  and  what  his 
works  were  like,  for  the  Pope  was  planning  to 
have  some  paintings  made  in  St.  Peter's.  This 
courtier,  on  his  way  to  see  Giotto  and  to  find 
out  what  other  masters  of  painting  and  mosaic 
there  were  in  Florence,  spoke  with  many  mas 
ters  in  Sienna,  and  then,  having  received  some 
drawings  from  them,  he  came  to  Florence.  And 
one  morning  going  into  the  workshop  of  Giotto, 
who  was  at  his  labors,  he  showed  him  the  mind 
of  the  Pope,  and  at  last  asked  him  to  give  him 
a  little  drawing  to  send  to  his  Holiness.  Giotto, 
who  was  a  man  of  courteous  manners,  immedi 
ately  took  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  with  a  pen 
dipped  in  red,  fixing  his  arm  firmly  against  his 
side  to  make  a  compass  of  it,  with  a  turn  of 
his  hand  he  made  a  circle  so  perfect  that  it  was 
a  marvel  to  see  it.  Having  done  it,  he  turned 


APPENDIX  243 

smiling  to  the  courtier  and  said,  "  Here  is  the 
drawing."  But  he,  thinking  he  was  being 
laughed  at,  asked,  "Am  I  to  have  no  other 
drawing  than  this?  "  " This  is  enough  and  too 
much,"  replied  Giotto;  " send  it  with  the  others 
and  see  if  it  will  be  understood."  The  mes 
senger,  seeing  that  he  could  get  nothing  else, 
departed  ill-pleased,  not  doubting  that  he  had 
been  made  a  fool  of.  However,  sending  the 
other  drawings  to  the  Pope  with  the  names  of 
those  who  had  made  them,  he  sent  also  Giotto's, 
relating  how  he  had  made  the  circle  without 
moving  his  arm  and  without  compasses,  which, 
when  the  Pope  and  many  of  his  courtiers  under 
stood,  they  saw  that  Giotto  must  surpass  greatly 
all  the  other  painters  of  his  time. 

[Fasari's  Lives.] 

"  When  the  Vale  was  sending  to  the  Seven  Hills 
Fresh  fuel  from  the  Forest  to  the  Altar." 

[Act  IF:  Scene  II.] 

The  Cerchi  party  was  called  the  Forest  party 
— >"  Parte  Selvagia  " — as  they  came  from  the 
woods  of  the  valley  of  the  Seine  and  district  of 
Acone.  Later  they  assumed  the  name  of 
Bianchi,  and  Donati's  followers  were  then  called 
NierL 


244  APPENDIX 

"  Shall  I,  then,  feed  on  Dante's  pile  of  bones?" 

\_Act  IF:  Scene  //.] 

While  Dante  was  at  the  Court  of  Can 
Grande,  a  boy  who  was  concealed  under  the 
table,  gathering  the  bones  which,  according  to 
the  custom  of  the  time,  were  thrown  under  the 
table,  placed  them  all  together  at  the  feet  of 
the  poet.  On  rising  from  the  table  the  pile 
was  discovered.  The  company  seemed  much 
amused,  and  Can  Grande  remarked  that  Dante 
must  be  a  great  eater  of  meat,  to  which  he 
quickly  retorted,  alluding  to  the  name  of  Cane, 
"  Sir,  you  would  not  see  so  many  bones  even  if 
I  were  a  dog  (un  cane)." 

[Botta's  Dante.'} 


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